Paint the sky red with desire
by forbiddenmao
Summary: Long-awaited continuation. Perspective of Seamus as a people-watcher in the mornings. A conversation hints at new developments to a potential relationship. Shamelessly HarryDraco. Read for a serious, slow-moving, plot centered romance. Please R&R!
1. Devotion

It was common for quidditch players to have unattractive hands, coarse and ungainly. Hands chapped from the biting cold of winter winds and rough from healed over blisters. Ron's hands felt harsh against her own soft skin as they awkwardly took her hands into his own, and during those gently endearing clumsy caresses in front of the fireplace. But Harry's hands were slender, delicate, smooth fitting so exactly the graceful line of his body. His fingers elegant and long, curled tightly around his broom, guiding it seemingly effortlessly in its flight. It seemed to follow his every unspoken command, an extension of his body as he gracefully swerved and swooped, his body melding into one entity with his broom as he flew. The pure exuberance shone through in times like this, his eyes glittering and shining with excitement and exhilaration. It took her breath away, the sheer beauty and innocence of his happiness. One could almost forget that he had the weight of the world upon his slender shoulders.  
  
He had real talent with those hands. Harry had never her capability at scoring at written tests or recalling endless facts from the tombs which she immersed herself in. But at practical, actual hands-on magic he was undoubtedly the best, although he seemed oblivious to this fact. It was an.... unique experience to watch Harry do magic. Even with a simple task of levitating a feather, one could feel the magic radiating off him almost in tangible waves. He had an aura around him that spoke of immeasurable power. Yet Harry was one of the most innocent people Hermione had ever met. How he retained his innocence with years of fighting Voldemort she had no idea, yet it seemed almost appropriate, an integral part of Harry. She would hate for that to be taken away from him.  
  
She shivered at the thought that it almost was the previous year. Harry's relatives, the Dursley's began to abuse him when they realised that Sirus was unable to help him as his godfather was running from the Ministry. Harry was rushed to the hospital unconscious by his relatives a week before the beginning of the school year, who claimed that he had been beaten up by a muggle gang. Professor Snape received news of Harry's hospitalisation and had brought him back to Hogwarts, where Harry gradually recovered under Pomfrey's strict care. It was discovered that he was covered with old and new wounds, apparently from a whip and slashes from knives. Two of his ribs were broken and made breathing difficult for him. His wrists showed severe chaffing and abrasions as if they had been bound tightly with rope over long periods of time. Apparently these were kept from the muggle doctors with the use of concealment charms. In addition to his physical wounds, he had been sexually abused apparently by his uncle and cousin. Even after Pomfrey had healed most of his injuries he had remained silent. His eyes which usually shone with life and brilliance were dull and unpenetrable during that period. It broke her heart that no matter how hard she tried she couldn't seem to get past the walls he had built around himself.  
  
Finally, it was Snape who managed to force him to talk about his experiences. Later Harry repeated to Ron and Hermione what he went through during that summer and she clung to him, crying uncontrollably, while he patted her head soothingly. She felt ashamed that the roles had been reversed, she should have been the one comforting him. Ron raged and cursed the Dursley's his face filled with anguish and sadness. Harry just smiled in the melancholy way that he had and said he didn't need their pity and that he thought they should know, that they deserved to know after all they had done for him. Hermione just gently ran her fingers through his unruly locks and kissed his forehead. He sighed and fell asleep in her lap. His skin fair against her navy blue silk pajamas, his sinfully long lashes dusting his delicate cheekbones. He looked like a angel, fallen from the heavens, forlorn and a little lost.  
  
He picked up painting after she had showed him various works of Rembrant and Monet. Happy to have something to distract him from sinking into long periods of silence and further depression she sent for paints and drawing blocks from her parents. Those childish small tubes and flimsy paper lasted only a week and soon Harry began to order brushes and paints from a professional muggle artists catalogue. He showed a unrivalled genius for sketching and painting, his pieces seemed to take up life. Hermione and Ron sat for many of these paintings, each time he managed to capture the mood and the essence of the person completely. She posed for him often as she liked to watch his fingers clutch at the brush, flitting over the canvas, his cheek getting smudged with paint as he absently rubbed at his face. His emerald eyes would glint and shine with concentration as they flickered from her face to the canvas in front of him. It was with such seductive intensity that he watched her that she though she knew he didn't like her 'that' way she couldn't help her breath hitching in her throat. She would remind herself that he was doing so for the painting. She sometimes wondered if she would have chosen Harry over Ron if he wasn't gay. As it was he was like a brother to her. One she loved and would kill or die for. 


	2. Confrontation

oh oopz.... I just realised that I forgot my disclaimer the first time: So here goes.... I own nothing in this story, I earn nothing from this story, I'm just writing this story for the sake of entertaining a few others. These characters are NOT mine (duh) and belong to one heck of a rich woman. So leave poor me alone.  
  
I almost forgot, this is Slash.... boy/boy relationships so if this offends you I'm sorry go and find some 'safe' heterosexual relationship story and stop wasting your time here.  
  
Anyways for this chapter I tried to change the tone as it's from a different person's point of view. It's a world of difference between a best friend of Harry's and his enemy's points of views. They'll definitely see things differently. Of course Draco will eventually be seeing Harry in a whole new light, but it won't be all of a sudden. So much for instant gratification. Patience darlings.  
Chapter 2  
  
There's something very wrong with Potter today.  
  
I had 'accidentally' crashed into him on the way into the Great Hall. Without missing a beat, he mumbled a quick apology before stepping back, giving way to me. I blinked. Potter never backs down. I was just about to make a sarcastic comment about how he had finally learned his place with the house elves when that Creevey boy, who is always following Potter around, smashed right into his back. I swear I saw Potter flinch as a parchment paper wrapped bundle fell from his grasp. It bounced softly once on the ground before rolling to the wall next to my dragon hide clad foot.  
  
He glanced warily at me before diving for the package. Unfortunately for him I grabbed it first. I smirked as I saw the poorly concealed anxiety on his face. His emotions have always been so readable. One of the many joys of annoying Potter was seeing his eyes flash and his cheeks flush with anger. It made him seem vulnerably human, not that ethereal being on the pedestal that everyone assumes he lives on.  
  
" What's the matter Potter? Love letter from Granger? Some dirty secret of Dumbledore's Golden Boy?" Sneering as I held it just out of his reach.  
  
" Harry, I'm so sorry..... " The Creevey boy was nearly groveling to him while shirking from my gaze. I rolled my eyes heavenwards. It made me sort of nauseous, trust Potter to inspire such mindless devotion. I mean just look at the size of his fanclub! Of course the 'oh-so-virtuous-and-pure' Potter was totally clueless to his actually having a following. My God if I had a group of lemmings like that I would be the new Dark Lord in no time.  
  
" It's ok, Colin. Really. Malfoy, give it here. I don't want to play your games any longer." Potter looked.... resigned? That was a new 'Potter- emotion' that I had never seen directed at me before. Normally it was varying degrees of exasperation, irritation and anger. It confused me. I didn't like being caught off-guard. Where was the usual sarcasm? The confrontational tone? Those I could understand and deal with.  
  
" Games? These are no games. Someone could get seriously hurt and I'm making sure that it won't be me." I grinned maliciously at him, watching carefully for signs that he was reaching for his wand. As his hand moved downwards towards the folds of his robes, I took the chance to slam him bodily against the stone walls. Keeping firm grip on his wrists as I smirked into his wide eyes. I saw something akin to fear in them before the emotion was replaced by a much more familiar loathing and rage. I let him struggle against my grip a few moments longer, relishing the feel of domination over him. Intimidation had always been my forte. I had never got under his skin before but I wasn't suddenly going to analyse why I saw panic in Potter's eyes. I must have gotten a whole lot stronger during the summer because I didn't really have to use up much of my strength to hold him against the wall.  
  
" Having 'fun' yet? Pot....." My breath was taken away as a hand grabbed the back of my robes and roughly flung me away from Potters slim frame. I fell hard on my side, sliding a little upon impact. "Professor?" My eyes widened at the sight of the raging Potions master looming large over me. His eyes flashed angrily.  
  
"20 points from Slytherin. For initiating an unprovoked attack on another student. Mr. Malfoy, I am disappointed in you, I thought you would have more sense than to openly attack someone in the corridor. Come to my office at 7pm and we will discuss your detention." Snape's voice was smooth as silk but I could feel the undercurrent of threat. I shivered involuntarily.  
  
"But sir! He star..."  
  
Snape sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. " No buts Mr. Malfoy, unless you want your prefect's badge to be taken away from you. Permanently. Oh and give that back to Mr. Potter." His glare silenced any doubt I had that he would do just that if I didn't instantly obey. My mouth snapped shut. Reluctantly, I handed over the package, which was rather crumpled after the fall. What was Snape playing at? This was Potter we are talking about. Oh great, now my head of house was going to play favorites with Potter. I don't understand how Potter manages to win everyone over to his side. Stupid old Scarhead.  
  
I pulled myself up with some semblance of dignity. Glaring at Creevey who I suddenly noticed cowering behind Snape. The little tell-tale. He would pay for this. I watched as Creevey, ever the opportunist, went up to Potter and began to help him up. Bet this was his field day, getting to feel up the Boy-who-Lived. I scowled. But my jaw dropped when Snape, of all people began to ask Potter if he was ok. Of course he was, we have been in worse fights the previous years. This was no big deal. Was that concern I was hearing in Snape's voice?  
  
Before I had a chance to eavesdrop further on their conversation, they had entered the dining hall. I scowled and brushed off my robes, smoothing away imaginary wrinkles. It wouldn't do for a Malfoy to appear at dinner looking rumpled. I stopped. The fabric had stuck slightly to the palm of my hand. As I squinted in the flickering torch light I noticed that my hands were covered in something red. It had caked slightly as it dried around the edges. I gasped in horror. And ran to the nearest boys lavatory.  
  
The water stained red as it flowed down into the sink. I stared at it in mornid fascination. I couldn't be caught with Potter's blood on my hands, literally. There are spells that are much more effective and untraceable if I ever wanted to get rid of him.  
  
I couldn't help wondering. Why was Potter bleeding?  
To my reviewers: BJ Jones, Jade Maxwell and NayNymic love you guys! Thanks for the reviews! Will try to update frequently but I have alot of work on my hands at the moment... argh.... Hmz I think the first chapter was abit 'detached'. Will try to please in the chapters to come. At the moment I've got some of idea of how the story's gonna proceed. But I would love to have suggestions and comments and stuff. I welcome criticism.... as long as its constructive. Would love to hear from you! Please Review. If only to drop a line. 


	3. In Absence

Before I begin, I'd like to apologize in advance for the lousy formatting. This is my first fiction posted on the net so there might be some problems. Just bear with me kz?  
  
Disclaimer: Do you mind? I don't own any of these characters etc. Ok on with the story.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Ron's POV  
  
Harry is getting way too obsessed with painting. We never seem to spend enough time with each other these days. I try to capture his attention with other hobbies but it doesn't seem to help. Yet whenever I ask him to do something with me he never refuses. Harry can never refuse anyone. It's against the grain of his nature to be selfish about anything or to decline to help.  
  
He still loves to fly and we would spend hours out in the dying light of the autumn sun, practicing feints and loops and other quidditch moves. And any time I asked him to play chess with me, he would oblige. He even tries to please Mione by doing all his work with her in the library. But afterwards, he would return to painting. Always. Harry spends literally hours at his easel. He has painted almost all the Gryfindors already and a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Anyone who would sit for him.  
  
Maybe I'm being selfish but I miss those cozy evenings in front of the fire, just the three of us. Talking about nothing important. I don't have qualms in saying that I'm scared of losing him. It's fear not totally unfounded due to the constant lurking presence of a mad psychopath that has been after his life since he was a baby. But what happened last summer caught us totally by surprise. I know the Dursley's didn't like Harry but what they did to him was brutal. Inhumane. You look at Harry and you can't believe he went through that kind of torture. He's so delicate and untainted. You would expect scars but that's magic for you. Physical wounds don't leave scars. And he hides his pain so effectively. It's like nothing happened. No one suspects a thing.  
  
Absurdly, I blame painting for stealing Harry from me but in a way it is I admit that it is more than a hobby to him. In a strange way I think it's his only link to sanity. Somehow it helps him cope with the abuse he went through. And if it helps, I'm the last person to take that away from him. He often forgets to eat and Mione and I would save him food during the meals. I think we are afraid to disturb him.  
  
There was this one time when he entered the Great Hall with Snape, looking flushed and flustered. I stood up and waved him over. As he approached, I saw his hands dripping with red. I gaped in shock. It took a few moments before I registered Mione's gasp of dismay. By the time I recovered, she had grabbed his hands as he reached her side, pushing up his sleeves to look at his wrists.  
  
"Mione!" Harry protested, trying unsuccessfully to withdraw his hands. I could tell he was embarrassed. She ignored his objections and murmured a quick cleaning spell before running her fingers lightly over the length of his arms, her small hands disappearing underneath the roomy sleeves of his robes. Finding no cuts she looked imploringly at Harry.  
  
"Where are you bleeding?"  
  
I couldn't help cutting in, "Are you hurt? Where did all that blood come from?"  
  
"No and no that wasn't blood," Harry smiled lightly. " It's just red paint. I think Malfoy managed to puncture a tube somehow..."  
  
"Malfoy?" I spat, " What did he do this time? If he hurt you I swear I'll rip his guts out."  
  
Harry replied easily, shrugging, " He just took my paints, luckily Snape turned up in time and made him give them back. I'm ok, you don't have to worry about me so much."  
  
"Oh." Mione looked slightly contrite for overreacting. Then suddenly she burst out, " But if we were there for you this wouldn't have happened. We should have stayed with you!"  
  
"You guys didn't know I was planning to come down for dinner. Besides, I can take care of myself, I'm a big boy now Mione." Harry laughed, yet inexplicably I could tell that something was bothering him. "Besides, this is Malfoy we're talking about, he'll pick on me no matter who's around." Harry fished a packet out of the pocket of his robe, grimacing when he saw that the red paint had soaked through the parchment papers. He drew his wand out, careful not to get paint on it and cast cleaning spells over the package and his robes. Placing the package on the table, he carefully unwrapped the layers of paper to reveal several paint brushes and a burst open tube of red paint. "Great." He sighed, " Now I'll have to order more from that catalogue. This was my last one."  
  
He sat with us for a few moments longer but it was obvious that Harry was distracted. His eyes were slightly unfoccussed and I wondered what had shaken him that badly. He wasn't shying away from the normal dinnertime conversation but I could tell that his laughter was strained. The difference was hardly noticeable that I thought I was reading too much into his emotions. However, I noticed that he had barely touched anything on his plate when he told us he was heading for the Owlery. Immediately, Mione jumped up and announced that she was done too and offered to accompany him. I began to rise but Mione's explicit stare kept me in my place.  
  
"Er.... then I'll meet you guys back at the common room later." I smiled weakly.  
  
"Oh and Ron you have that Charms essay that you have to hand in on Thursday. Do try and get it done." That girl just can't give a guy a break. I sighed and scowled darkly at the amused glance Harry shot me. At the same time I secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Mione was so much better than me at these things. If something was bothering Harry she'd be able to find out and deal with it.  
  
As they turned to leave I heard someone comment, "Mmm... red really is his colour."  
  
I rose an eyebrow at Seamus' remark. Whoa... hey where did that come from? I glanced over at Seamus to see him practically drooling at Harry's retreating back. Seamus' eyes were slightly glazed over and he was contorting his body in order to watch Harry leave the Great Hall. Oh no. Seamus is gay?!? Harry's got to be warned!  
  
This is going to be a long year. I groaned and put my head in my hands.  
  
To Redmeadow: thanks for the review. yeah i know... i hate cliffies too i'm sorry if the last chapter was one.... i'll try not to do that in the future.. er hope this isn't one.  
  
To JE: oh wow... thanks. hmz... about your questions i haven't quite decided yet. so i'm going with my inspiration. but yeah it gave me a few ideas that i can explore.  
  
To BJ Jones: you like the change of perspectives? oh ok good coz i was thinking that this might be a little disorientating for some people.  
  
To katrina: nope.... act chapter 1 occurred first. think it might be slightly confusing first but as the story moves on it'll get better. sorry about that.  
  
To NayNymic: i can't exactly say that he wasn't raped. coz i did imply that harry was sexually abused. oh dear... now i got myself into a situation....*bangs head on keyboard* and draco is being a bastard at the moment. but that will change. i'm trying to make draco 'grow up' as the story progresses. i'd like to make them fall in love eventually and not take the line of 'hate being a form of suppressed love'. they honestly don't like each other now but they'll get to know and understand one another later on.  
  
To suse: thanks that was sweet of you =).  
  
To Lanevaly: yah we writers are a rather sadistic breed. but i won't let harry suffer too much. i hope. hey i do have a heart.  
  
To anonymous: thanks.... i do try to keep in character.... at least in my interpretation of the character. 


	4. Affliction

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry or Draco or Hermione or Ron etc etc. Sad isn't it? Oh well I'll live.  
  
I've proofread this a couple of times so I'm hoping that there aren't any glaring errors. I think writing this story has become a sort of addiction for me. It's taking up so much of my time. That's the problem with me, I'm sorta a perfectionist so I end up thinking about the story even when I'm out with my friends. It's driving them crazy. Oh dear. Anyway, hope you like how it's going so far. Please R & R. Thanks. *rushes off to catch up on homework*  
  
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Chapter 4  
  
Harry's POV  
  
Mione and I left Ron in the Great Hall. Hermione knew something was up with me and I was walking pretty fast to avoid the inevitable conversation. I noticed that she had that adorable little crease between her eyebrows and she'd set her chin just so; I could tell that she wasn't going to let me go so easily. I knew I owed it to her, after all she's done for me. And if I didn't tell her what was bothering me, she'd get so worried. I didn't want that.  
  
But somehow I just couldn't bring myself to talk. Besides, it was nothing important. Bumping into Malfoy in the hallway had reminded me of the Dursley's. I had simply been caught off guard and the similarities in the tone and the open hostility unnerved me. Then when Malfoy trapped me against the wall I felt an unexpected surge of claustrophobia, I could feel my chest tightening as if an elephant was sitting on my ribcage. My head spun and the air became so thick.  
  
(couldn't breathe)  
  
It was uncomfortable.  
  
A remnant fear of small spaces from endless weeks in the closet probably.  
  
Professor Snape told me that talking would help and I did. Talk I mean. I'd made a nuisance of myself and distressed everyone. I'm supposed to have gotten over what had happened at the Dursley's by now. I thought I had. But why had I panicked?  
  
I resent the weakness.  
  
(I'm terrified that I'm losing control over my mind and body)  
  
There was something else though. Something.... something I don't feel like analysing at the moment.  
  
(afraid of what I might find)  
  
When Malfoy took away my paintbrushes I had hardly fought back. It seemed only fair. I know normal people don't think this way but I feel that it was an unavoidable occurrence. I enjoy painting too much. It makes me feel happy. I don't deserve that kind of indulgence. Besides, it's not the first time something like this has happened. Why should things change now? Anything I liked too much would be taken away from me. Toys. Books. Clothing. Food.  
  
(My parents)  
  
I understand loss. I can deal with it.  
  
(I don't deserve nice things)  
  
I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. I feel like I'm always complaining, worrying my friends over trivial things. Especially Ron and Hermione. They're a couple, they should be spending more time with each other, but then how can they? I'm like this enormous third wheel. Always getting in the way. Always crying out for attention.  
  
They're so good to me, constantly around, taking care of me, looking out for me. And all I've ever done for them is to get them into dangerous situations, and probably making them targets of Voledemort's insanity. I'm such a magnet for trouble, I don't blame the Dursley's for not wanting me around. It was difficult bringing me up. And they were under no obligation to take care of me. I mean the food and clothing were bought with their money. What claim did I have to them in the first place? I was such a burden. They even let me go to school. I should be thankful for the things they gave me.  
  
(that they didn't want)  
  
I was so distracted with my own thoughts that I was caught by surprise when I felt someone grab me by the arm. I must have seen Malfoy while coming down the corridor but it didn't register until he physically touched me.  
  
"I should have know you'd play a cheap trick like that to get attention. Paint. And I thought you were bleeding. How slytherin, Potter. I'm impressed." A low voice drawled next to my ear. I shivered involuntarily.  
  
"You think I did that on purpose? If I remember correctly, you were the one who slammed me against the wall and burst that tube of paint in the first place." I replied calmly, I was acutely aware of his presence behind me but I remained relaxed. Mione's presence was comforting.  
  
It wasn't like he could do or say anything to get to me. Whatever he came up with now I've had it infinitely worse from the Dursley's.  
  
(then why had I panicked earlier?)  
  
"Why the hell were you carrying paint around with you in the first place, Potter?" Malfoy spat viciously. Apparently my lack of reaction had irritated him.  
  
"I like to paint." I turned to see how he took this new information.  
  
"Right, you expect me to believe that."  
  
(what was I expecting him to do, show interest? why would anyone be interested in me?)  
  
"Sorry that I didn't take into consideration the possibility that people would be physically attacking me on my way to dinner." I grabbed Mione and started to leave.  
  
"Going so soon? Oh my, where are my manners? I shall not delay you two any longer from your snog session." Malfoy sneered, "Though I expected you to have more taste than to go after a Mudblood, Potter."  
  
I froze in my steps. He'd gone too far. I will not tolerate him insulting Mione in this way.  
  
"Leave it!" I ignored Mione tugging on my sleeve and the anxious whisper that followed.  
  
"Gods! Grow up, Malfoy. Apparently your maturity hasn't reached past the level of name calling. Hermione's worth ten of you. She tops the school; she does better than all of those 'purebloods'. Can't you see that lineage doesn't matter? And what's the whole thing with purebloods? Without Muggle- borns the wizarding race would have gone extinct long ago from inbreeding. Besides, some of the greatest wizards that lived were muggle-born."  
  
"Oh... so we're acting all virtuous now are we, Potter? What do you know about how the wizarding world works? You grew up with muggles. Stupid muggle lover, I bet that your muggle relatives simply worship you, they probably kiss your feet for staying with them. Of course you'd think muggles aren't a waste of space when they're treating you like you're some god. Now that I think of it, I wouldn't mind them too if they went down on their hands and knees for me." Malfoy drawled as he buffed his nails on his robe.  
  
(they went down)  
  
My mouth went dry.  
  
(on me)  
  
He raised his eyebrow. "Honestly, Potter, I don't know what's the whole fuss about you. Everyone loves you because you're the Boy-That-Lived, through no accomplishment of your own, may I remind you. You live that perfect little life of yours and you expect everyone to give way to you. Talk about taking advantage of the situation."  
  
I would have laughed at the irony of that statement if my throat wasn't seizing up.  
  
"How DARE you." I looked over at Mione in surprise. She was raging, she looked like some avenging angel, her wild curls, glinting gold in the weak light, framed her face that was pale with fury, her nut brown eyes flashing dangerously. I gaped. I felt almost sorry for Malfoy. He was really in for it. Unfortunately he didn't know that.  
  
"What, Granger? This is between Harry and me so just... butt out." Malfoy sneered, barely looking at her.  
  
(yes, leave it, I'm not worth it)  
  
"You... you bastard! How dare you says things like that to Harry?" Mione went on as if he hadn't spoken. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You don't even know him. He's gone through so much more than you ever will. You're the one always hiding behind the Malfoy name. Without it, you're nothing. Your whole existence has been and will always be dictated by that name. And the only purpose you serve in your sad little life is probably to produce a heir. You don't even know who you are, all your life you've been doing and saying things that you're expected to. Tell me Malfoy. Do you actually want to follow in your father's footsteps and become a deatheater? Have you even thought about it? All that money doesn't make the slightest difference because you're empty inside. You can play up your father's influence in the wizarding society but the truth is: you aren't worth the dirt under Harry's shoes."  
  
Mione took a deep breath before plunging on, albeit more calmly. "Everytime anything happens and you're running off with your tail between your legs. You can scare others with your pureblood crap but inside you're just a miserable pathetic little shit and you know it. I feel sorry for you Malfoy."  
  
Merlin, I've never heard Hermione swear before. Ever. And Mione's never malicious like this. Malfoy was standing there with his mouth gaping open.  
  
"And shut your trap before you start attracting flies." Hermione shot at him.  
  
She grabbed my arm and stormed off. When I glanced back Malfoy was glaring at us. Our eyes met for a briefly. There was a flicker of something I couldn't place. Hurt? Confusion? Before I could make it out, he turned and stalked off in the opposite direction. I shook off the compassion I suddenly felt for him. This was Malfoy, he had said worse things to us before.  
  
When we were safely out of sight I looked at Hermione in admiration. " Wow Mione."  
  
"Oh dear, I think I really overdid that back there didn't I?" She giggled nervously.  
  
"Speechless is a good look on him," I smiled at her. "You were brilliant. Thanks for standing up for me."  
  
(always)  
  
"Really? Malfoy didn't really deserve that no matter what he did to us before..."  
  
"It'll probably do him some good." I stated firmly.  
  
(was that hurt in his eyes?)  
  
I hid my frown behind a affectionate smile.  
  
(I make people get hurt)  
  
Mione broke eye contact and flushed. Quietly, she slid her arm around me as we made our way to the Gryffindor tower. Her arm felt warmly reassuring but I sensed that she was uneasy. She began to bite her lower lip.  
  
" You should get angry more often. You looked absolutely stunning when you flared up at him!" I teased, chuckling. Mione punched me on the arm and pretended to pout before bursting into laughter. We walked the rest of the way to the owlery in meditative but companionable silence.  
  
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To Jade Maxwell: thanks, glad you think so. hope you like this chapter.  
  
To Pepsi: yes i do know what you mean abt the cliffie thing. the anticipation's part of the fun right? oh and this is my first try at writing fanfiction so i'm still trying to perfect the tone and stuff. thanks for the encouragement =).  
  
To NayNymic: well darling, i have a different opinion about rape. i think that it's not about sex or physical contact or even lust. it's about power and domination over another person. trust the dursley's to try to dominate and destroy something that they can't understand. i can't confirm whether he was raped or not. but most likely he was. sorry. hope you'll still keep reading. thanks for always reviewing.  
  
To Viola King: really? you do? oh my i'm flattered.  
  
To Doneril: thanks =)  
  
To BJ Jones: seamus' pt of view will be tough i think coz he's not really very involved.... yet. have to develop and explore his character first before i try it out. and snape's well, we'll see =). i adore severus and it's kinda hard to describe him when speaking in his perspective right? grinz.... 


	5. Itch

Disclaimer: Well here we go again. No I don't own anything. Wait. Do I have to do this for every chapter?  
  
Anyway some readers are prob going to ask what's taking so long? What? We're still in the great hall? Where's the romance? But love takes time. (So does developing the characters) Draco won't suddenly realise that after years of rivalry that he loves Harry.  
  
In this chapter Seamus is a raging sack of hormones, but don't worry he'll have more depth in the future chapters. Not 'deep' depth but hey it's Seamus. It's all relative. I think Seamus is immature. So sue me.  
  
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Chapter 5  
  
Seamus' POV  
  
Seamus watched Harry leave with Hermione, he couldn't take his eyes off the svelte frame. The red paint had reminded him of a dream he had a few nights ago, featuring a very wet Harry wrapped in a very small red Gryffindor towel. And there was that particular fantasy involving a few paint brushes and a willing naked body. Needless to say it pressed a few buttons in Seamus' hormone addled mind.  
  
Harry reminded him of a panther, the way his body glided within those black robes, the hint of his toned body outlined for the briefest moment as he moved. On other students the standard Hogwarts robes looked shapeless but Harry wore the cotton like it was black silk. Undeniably sensual.  
  
But the real prize is watching him at work with his paintings. The confidence with which he holds his brush, the seriousness of his expression, the way he stands with his legs apart for balance. He exuded power and sex appeal. And especially the way the pants pulled tight against those endless toned legs. Harry's clothes had always been ill-fitting. However, Harry had the knack of making those shapeless clothes look like runway fashion.  
  
Apparently Harry hadn't learnt the art of shopping. It'd be nice to see him in some clothes that are actually his size. Seamus reflected. But that should be easily taken care of.  
  
Above all, Harry was completely oblivious to his attractions and that was what made him irresistible to Seamus. There was something so tempting in that innocence. It just screamed out to be tainted, Seamus mused, taking a deep gulp of cold pumpkin juice, barely suppressing a moan as he felt the droplets of condensation slide down his chin and trail down his neck.  
  
Seamus had realised that he was bisexual in the third year and had taken full advantage of the situation to 'sample' both sides. He had a couple of interhouse flings before suddenly noticing that his dormmate was Gor-geous! The crush probably began after Harry got his eyes fixed.  
  
Harry's glasses had been broken in a death eater attack, rendering him completely vulnerable. Luckily the aurors got him out in time. Afterwards, as a precaution against similar occurrences, Dumbledore insisted that Harry have his eyes fixed, much to Harry's dismay. The glasses were the only thing preventing Dudley from hitting him on the face. The rest of the school, including Seamus, not being overly burdened with knowledge of the latter, were thrilled when they realised that their Golden boy had grown up to be quite a hunk after Harry emerged from years of hiding behind his hair and the famous thick framed glasses.  
  
Harry's tousled ebony black hair caressed the base of his neck. His fringe fell alluringly into his striking emerald eyes, which were framed with sinfully long lashes. These contrasting with his fair skin and toned lithe body made him seem like some Greek god. A young Adonis. The etheral luminous shine his skin had added to the overall effect. Include this to the fact that he is Quidditch captain and also a very powerful wizard and it is unsurprising that Harry topped everyone's Most Droolworthy list.  
  
Even rumours that Harry was dating Hermione hadn't stopped people from trying to get close to him. Strangely enough, Harry seemed unaware of the lustful and hungry looks people were suddenly shooting at him or that he was being stalked by half the school. Probably due to the small distraction of perpetually being in life threatening situations. But it was a given for the rest of the school that 'Harry-watching' had become the official favorite recreation in Hogwarts. Seamus had a whole schedule dedicated to Harry-watching. Plus he had the added advantage of knowing that the supposed relationship between the two best friends was nothing more than friendship.  
  
It took a minute or two before Seamus noticed Ron's death glare. Maybe it was the growl that tipped him off.  
  
"Seamus. Stay. Away. From. Harry." Ron bit out.  
  
Seamus blinked. "Huh?"  
  
"I saw the way you were looking at him. Harry's not ready for a relationship so just.... just back off. He's not one of your flings. He... well he doesn't need something like that. He deserves more." Ron stated tiredly.  
  
"Aw a little friendly flirtation never hurt anyone." Seamus winked lavishly at Ron. But Ron's attention was drawn elsewhere. Ron's nose wrinkled cutely in confusion. Seamus followed Ron's line of vision.  
  
"Malfoy?" Seamus thought. " I thought Ron was with Hermione. Well I don't blame him for looking. Malfoy's hot, but blondes aren't my type. Now Blaise, that's someone worth lusting after."  
  
We'll leave Seamus momentarily distracted with a new target.  
  
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Draco's POV  
  
I can't believe I let the Mudblood get to me. It all started out pretty normally. I mean it was the usual stuff: muggle-lover, golden boy, putting down Mr. I-think-I'm-God, Potter has everything on a silver platter. See, nothing different. I wonder what triggered her off. Gee, I never thought that Granger had it in her. Although there was that one time in forth year when she hit me...  
  
Maybe I shouldn't have gone after Potter. But I was pretty ticked off when Blaise told me about the paint thing. Potter had entered the Hall covered in what appeared to be blood and it just stopped everyone cold. Later they found out that it was just paint. Talk about anticlimax. I can't believe I was actually close to getting worried. I thought Potter was into slitting his wrists or something. No... I was definitely more worried about getting expelled. I mean what would Father think?  
  
Of course nothing Granger says is true. I'm a Malfoy. That means way more than a name. It... well... I... We Malfoy's behave in a certain way. It's ingrained in us. Just like how all Malfoy's have silver-blond hair and porcelain complexions, we're born with nasty personalities. Well there are a few exceptions but those are... defects. I can't be anything other than what I am because.... it's weak! Wait that didn't come out right.  
  
Anyway, I do want to become a Deatheater. I honestly do. Just imagine the power that comes along with the job description. It's obvious that Voldemort will take over in the end and I want to be on the winning side when he does. It's a given, I mean look at what he's up against! Potter, incompetent Ministry workers and a crazy old man with a long beard and a fetish for candy. No contest. Though serving a half dead moron with a psychotic streak doesn't really appeal that much. But I can put up with the revulsion and the groveling if I get to fulfil my ambitions. Not that I know what they are presently, but I'm sure it's somewhere along the lines of killing muggles and ridding the world of mudbloods... I think.  
  
I can't believe I'm actually bothered over this. Why do I feel the need to explain myself? How I live my life isn't anyone else's concern. Stupid Gryffindors always sticking their noses where they don't belong. She really isn't worth my time.  
  
The doors to the Great Hall are heavy, where are Crabbe and Goyle when you need brute force? I see they're still busy stuffing their faces. There's Pansy, Milicent...  
  
Brilliant, the Weasel is staring at me. Why the hell is he staring? Maybe he contracted a weird eye disease. Or maybe Potter the crybaby told him what happened. Now Seamus is gawking too. Oh no, did I rip my robes?  
  
He's still staring. And it's not even the usual I-hate-you-and-I-want-to- disembowel-you stare. Definitely something wrong here. Would Pansy stop fluttering her lashes? She looks like she has this facial twitch thing going on. Can't breathe in here. And it's not just Crabbe's bad breath.  
  
Will someone burn his eyes out? WHAT is his problem? Does he like me or something? Oh no scratch that. That was just sick. A Weasley. All those icky freckles. Oh Merlin. I think I've just lost my appetite. Permanently.  
  
I'm out of here.  
  
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To Makili: thanks so much! i know what you mean, i'm getting obsessed. i went out for dinner with my parents and i had this piece of paper that i kept jotting things down in. they got so exasperated with me. and now if i go out without a pen i go completely nuts.  
  
To Jade Maxwell: haha gee thanks. actually i've been waiting a long time to write something like that. draco really deserves it sometimes.  
  
To BJ Jones: thanks for reviewing so often. i really appreciate your constant support! and i was in a restless mood so i did seamus first.  
  
To nightwing: =)  
  
To KittenBabyGirl: i'll try to update often. but all the homework! 


	6. Splatters

Disclaimer: nada nada nada. don't own anything.  
  
To those who are waiting anxiously for action, the chapter after this one should be more to your taste. But first... This chapter was written in the middle of the night. So it'll be erratic at times, but suits the mood I guess. Just Ron thinking. Long long thoughts. phew. I'm exhausted.  
  
Please R&R.  
  
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Chapter 6  
  
Ron's POV  
  
Look closely at Harry. Go on. Just watch him.  
  
There's nothing there that even hints of insecurity. I mean, this is the guy who's hero of the wizarding world, albeit a very reluctant one. Good- looking. Quidditch captain. Topping many of the classes he's taking. The girls love him, the guys want to be him. It's so clichéd it wouldn't even make a movie these days. I mean what does this guy have to be insecure about? But watch him. Look at the way he flies. He's a natural, you think, the way he swoops and dives with reckless abandon, barely escaping with his neck intact. You gasp unconsciously at the high speed turns and passes. The confidence with which he guides his broom is breathtaking.  
  
But look closer. He isn't doing it just for the thrill of it, not for the adrenaline pumping into his veins. He isn't doing it to impress any of the girls either. Do you see it now? The second before he yanks his broom upwards, the tail of his Firebolt just stroking the top of the blades of grass? Do you see that look on his face? It's scary. Like he's actually trying to kill himself but something is stopping him. That's why he never shows any sign that he's going to stop before he hits the ground. It's because he doesn't really want to. Stop. I don't know what that something is, that thing that's keeping him here with us, but I sure as hell hope that the 'something' keeps being there.  
  
It shows up in other ways you know. The insecurity. Small ways. Ways you don't really pay attention to unless you've been around him for awhile and you know what to look out for. Notice the way he'll lean into a hug. Most boys our age don't do that. We resent hugs, we think they're sissy and unnecessary. We'll stiffen and wish it was over. But it's like Harry needs people to remind him that they care for him. He seems to crave the physical contact. Oh don't get me wrong, he'll never actually initiate contact and he's not the touchy feely type. It's other people that are the problem, it's what they can get away with. Like Seamus.  
  
Harry doesn't really know where the boundaries lie, that line between appropriate affectionate touching and molesting, guess it comes from never having much normal physical contact with the Dursley's. They only touched him when they were inflicting pain. In fact, you would probably expect him to abhor other people touching him, associating contact with causing hurt. But he doesn't, he seems to treasure it more. He literally glows when you give him a pat on the back or in the case of Mione, a quick hug. It affirms him.  
  
I wish Harry would look out for himself. Doesn't he see what Seamus is doing? It's disgusting the way Seamus flirts with him. The crude innuendoes, the sly looks at dinner, the way he ever so casually slings his arm around Harry's waist, or shoulder, or hip. And Harry doesn't seem to notice. Not really. I mean he'll ask Seamus to stop when he goes overboard. But Harry's too nice, to polite, too trusting. Plus he's too concerned that other people won't like him. I can't get him to tell Seamus off though it's obvious that he doesn't like Seamus, not in that way. He keeps insisting that Seamus is only joking around. The rest of the school doesn't think so. Most think that they're a couple. It's so... erg!  
  
I wish Harry would let me have a 'talk' with Seamus. If I had known something like this would happen I wouldn't have encouraged Harry to 'come out'. Actually I don't think that would have made a difference to Seamus. At least Harry doesn't fancy him, so there's no chance of Harry's heart breaking. Which knowing Seamus, would have been inevitable if Harry actually cared for him. Seamus is a player, nothing more. I don't think he even knows what the word commitment means. There's plenty of people like him in the school but he's the most outrageous and daring. I intend to keep Harry safe from him.  
  
Seamus is pretty persistent but I know that Harry will never give in to someone he doesn't love or someone who doesn't love him back. He's stubborn in that way. In fact I think he was a virgin when they.... when they raped him. Oh god. We don't talk about that, there was that one time, after he talked with Snape. After that zilch. It's not that we're avoiding the issue. It's just that it's not something we mention casually. Mione and I don't know what to say. And Harry will never bring up the issue voluntarily. Only that one time.  
  
He had told us about the abuse and the rape so matter-of-factly, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. Instead of the sick thing that it was. I think he didn't want to cause us pain. He's always thinking of other people.  
  
We reacted, of course we did. I said some angry words, vowed to kill the Dursley's and Mione broke down. It was what we were expected to do and say. It only really sank in afterwards. Mione was cradling his head gently. She was crying. Not wailing and moaning but silently crying. Her tears just kept falling, sliding down and they didn't stop and she didn't try to make them. The grief was too great for her to care. And I was thinking they look like pearls, those tears and then I thought how can I be thinking of something like that when something so big has happened?  
  
The mind has a strange way of distracting you from the pain with small trivial matters. It's almost like it is trying to keep you from going mad.  
  
Harry had fallen asleep in her lap looking so innocent and pure but so broken. You couldn't imagine anyone doing something so hateful as that to him. He is too beautiful and delicate. It was the saddest scene I've ever witnessed. I dug my nails into my palms until red crescents formed and the blood pooled in my palm and seeped out from between my tightly clenched fingers. I barely felt the pain over the silent scream in my mind that was drowning out any rational thought.  
  
Mione and I kept a silent vigil. We would protect Harry from the cruel world, if only for a night. It was the least we could do.  
  
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Harry has stopped painting portraits. It probably has something to do with his not being able to find people to sit for him. Maybe people just didn't have the time now that school has started, but it's more likely that those who had posed for him before were reluctant to do so again. And Harry isn't one of those pushy people who are used to always getting what they want, he couldn't be anymore opposite of that. He takes the excuses in stride and smiles politely before saying "I understand, you don't have to explain."  
  
Don't get me wrong, it isn't that Harry is a bad artist. Heaven knows I've never met someone with half his talent. In fact, the problem is that he's too good. It's disconcerting to see yourself through his works. They revealed far too much about yourself for comfort. He captures something further, something deeper that you would normally keep hidden away even from yourself. A darker side.  
  
There's this portrait of me tucked safely in my trunk that reveals things about me that I'm not sure I'm prepared to look into. It's not even quite finished, the body is just a rough sketch so far. Just the face. But the emotions in the eyes and the posture of the body gave away more about me than I wanted others to know. I think Harry knows I took it because he never asked about it.  
  
Of course, there's always Seamus, who's always eager to be near him. But Harry couldn't get him to stay still for long enough. Seamus kept getting up and walking over to see how the painting was going. Taking the chance to brush up against Harry of course. Excuse the pun.  
  
And Mione's always willing to sit for him but even she is encouraging him to find other people to pose for him. " You've done so many of me already." She'd exclaim, and smile fondly, wrapping her arms around him protectively, spooning his lithe frame from behind. Her honey coloured curls a splash of gold against his midnight locks. They look so perfect together. Merlin knows Mione adores him.  
  
If Harry hadn't told us he was gay I would be extremely jealous of the way she looks at him. In fact most of our house mates thought that they were a couple, before Seamus came along. I don't blame them, seeing the way she's always fussing over him. But Mione says that he's like a brother to her. I confronted her once about how she felt about Harry and she just laughed fondly, "Oh Ron..." When pushed further she looked into my eyes and said seriously, " I love him as you love him." Even if they are together, I would not let something like that come between us. Between the three of us. What we have is too special.  
  
But I digress. Harry's into painting landscapes now. He had begun with the usual scenes from the Hogwarts grounds, capturing perfectly the shimmer of the lake at twilight, or the explosion of a bird in flight. Mione and I encouraged this hobby. I was jealous of his hobby, how it took him away from us for long periods of time to a world that belonged wholly to himself. But it was something to distract his mind from what his 'relatives' did to him.  
  
Harry would sit quietly beside the lake staring out across the sprawling Hogwarts grounds and begin to paint. Somewhere along the line these scenes of the school ground gave way to landscapes of unearthly places.  
  
Fantastic places which came straight from Harry's imagination. These places were often breathtakingly beautiful, they took shape under his brush unveiling a awe-inspiring magnificence. Yet they unnerved me. As if under this facade of loveliness there lay a more sinister undercurrent of dread. But the feeling was elusive and when I tried to analyse it, it escaped from conscious thought, once more I can only be overwhelmed by the charm of these illusory places.  
  
I can't explain it.  
  
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To eMJay: i was thinking something along those lines but not exactly a public art show thing.  
  
To Icy Flame: yes teenage boys are a pain sometimes. *rolls eyes* i'm glad you like the fic =)!  
  
To Jade Maxwell: well there's always people out there who we don't like but they always seem to be right in the middle of things. haha don't worry i'll try and get rid of him... but he's going to be around abit more. oh dear....  
  
To BJ Jones: yup and draco's got to get over himself before i actually let him near harry. or maybe it'll be a 'during' kind of thing. hmz... thanks for reviewing!  
  
To frizzy: ohmigosh... you reviewed! i love your story... and you started the whole veela thing! thanks for taking the time to drop a note =)...  
  
To Elanor: thanks and i am trying to update frequently.  
  
To JE: all will be revealed soon. haha sorry sound like trelawney. i think it's coz i haven't decided yet. thanks for reviewing. and hope you did well for your exams. last year i screwed up mine coz i was following the fanfics. oh my.... dangerous things these are. 


	7. Impressions

Disclaimer: I love them but I can't have them. I own nothing. Big Sigh.  
  
I'm taking the liberty of calling Snape 'Severus' coz I don't think he thinks of himself as 'Snape'.  
  
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Chapter 7  
  
Severus' POV  
  
"Blasted owl." Severus cursed silently, he muttered a quick healing spell and watched as the cut immediately sealed itself. He wiped away the blood with the sleeve of his robe distractedly.  
  
His footsteps sounded harsh as they echoed through the unforgiving stone corridor. The same corridors that were filled with boisterous students during the day were loud with eerie silence at the moment. Torches lining the passage threw puddles of light at his feet and cast dark phantoms that mocked him as he passed. The quiet did not bother him as much as the unfamiliar feeling of guilt. He had betrayed one who had trusted him.  
  
I am a slytherin. Harry should have known that.  
  
He winced at the memory of his voice. Considerate. Understanding. " Tell me, you can't keep it in you forever. You'll go insane."  
  
Worse, "I won't tell."  
  
Idiot boy. He's so trusting. I'm the nasty greasy potions master. Everyone hates me. Why couldn't he tell the muggle psychiatrist or Dumbledore? Why me? I thought I could cope. I had no idea it was so bad. I was wrong. Terribly. I knew the moment he woke up. Those innocent green eyes. I was lost the minute I looked into them. But I couldn't help him. I can't cope with this.  
  
He'll hate me.  
  
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Draco's POV  
  
Snape's not looking so good, I mused, noting the drawn face and pursed mouth when a fury of black robes swept into the classroom. Probably from a deatheater meeting. Father says those are very draining. And no wonder, the stress must be unbearable when a wrong move can mean torture or death.  
  
Fastidiously crushing the last of the dried anemones into a fine powder, I carefully measured equal amounts into tinted bottles, containing hot healing potion, before sealing the caps. Each gave a satisfying suction sound as I set them in cold water. This wasn't much of a punishment. Actually, preparing potions relaxes me. Potions turned their appropriate colours when you added the right ingredients. They were predictable. Soothing. Of course they required skill and precision, but those were things I never had a problem with. I had always been one with an eye for detail.  
  
Best of all potions made sense. Adding dried anemones would increase the shelf-life of the healing potion, counteracting the acidity of other ingredients. In the same way, every constituent of the potion had a specific purpose. You just gave it time to react, watching the mixture change colours before adding in the next. It was straightforward, each component had its special property and they all worked together, harmoniously, to create liquid magic.  
  
Methodically, I washed and dried the cauldron and the glass phials, replacing them onto their stands. I catalogued the finished potions, watching inattentively as the loping script of the quotes quill flew across the labels and the record books. I let my mind go into autopilot, reeling off the list of completed potions, having done this many times before.  
  
I volunteered alot to stay back to help Snape, it was something I enjoyed doing. Detentions were often just a cover-up for the occasions that Snape had deatheater meetings and needed someone to help him with preparations for the next day's lessons.  
  
This detention was earned, unfortunately. Though I don't regret the cause. Finnigan and Potter had been flirting again. And in the potions classroom! Why can't they do it behind closed doors? It was getting more annoying by the second, the way Seamus kept edging closer to his boyfriend.  
  
(So I was wrong about Granger and Potter. How about that? And the way Granger swoons over him, who would've guessed?)  
  
Potter looked uneasy and had been trying to get away from the sandy haired lust driven teenager but he was trapped between the wall and Finnigan.  
  
Between a rock and a hard place, I smirked, remembering.  
  
Any other day I would have enjoyed Potter's discomfort but a migraine was driving me crazy. Finnigan had a way of getting right on my nerves.  
  
"Mr. Finnigan, would you care to remove yourself from Mr. Potter?"  
  
Merlin, that man appears out of nowhere, I thought admiringly. I laughed to myself as Finnigan jumped guiltily at the sight of Professor Snape, knocking Potter's scales off the table in his haste to back away.  
  
But things didn't stop there. Finnigan kept trying to make eyes at Potter all through the potions lesson and took every chance to paw at him. It was very nauseating to say the least. Merlin save us from the desperation that is Finnigan.  
  
The last straw came when Finnigan leaned over the cauldron to peer saucily under Potter's messy bangs. I could feel a vein just pounding on my forehead. I couldn't think clearly. I tried counting to ten but before I got to three, I just lost it and hit Finnigan with a Jelly legs jinx.  
  
What I hadn't anticipated was that Finnigan lost his balance and immediately keeled over face first into the potion. When he emerged his face had turned a kind of greenish-orange and had swelled to twice the normal size. And so I got my detention. But one look at Finnigan's face was worth it. My headache went away after that.  
  
Snape looked almost amused.  
  
And Potter... Potter seemed... grateful? Couldn't be. Potter wouldn't know gratitude even if it hit him in the face. I bet he started all those rumours about how bad his life is with the muggles. They dislike him? What did they do? Wake him up too early in the morning? Honestly, some people.  
  
"I'm finished with the potions. Can I leave?"  
  
Snape waved his hand dismissively from behind his pile of scrolls. I shrugged and left the classroom. I was used to Snape's undemonstrative behavior. But it made it all the more surprising that Snape had taken a liking to the Golden Boy. It was so unlike Snape to be taken in by a Gryffindor.  
  
Potter's really got it going for him doesn't he? I have tried for years to get that man to like me. Without any success, I thought bitterly. And Snape's the one man I look up to.  
  
Other than Father, I added hastily, almost guiltily.  
  
I didn't feel like going back to the slytherin dorms. I'm tired of my dormmates. They have so little imagination. Every night it is the same thing: food, stupid Gryffindors, biased teachers, mudbloods, the rising of the Dark Lord. I know I am being unfair but sometimes it just seems like that is all they talk about. And I am sick of hearing how lucky I am to be a Malfoy and how I will rise up in the ranks of the deatheaters very quickly. The Malfoy lineage goes a long way back and is highly prized by Voldemort. Most of the time I am proud of the fact but sometimes it just feels draining.  
  
There is so much to live up to. Sometimes I just feel like saying screw Voldemort. I think the whole thing is overrated. So what if he takes over the world in the end and we get rid of all the people that piss us off. Then what?  
  
Find more enemies and then more torture and the dark arts? Making a career out of that isn't really my cup of tea. There's only that much blood and gore that I can take in one lifetime.  
  
I'm sick of people telling me what to do. All my life it's been the same sad story. Draco, wear your black silk robes, they look better than the matte silver ones. Or sit up straight Draco, Malfoys never slouch. Or of course Draco will be joining you after he finishes his schooling at Hogwarts, my lord.  
  
I never did have much of a choice. Granger wouldn't be able to understand something like that. It's all so easy for her. She probably has parents that say "We're proud of you no matter what." And she wants me to 'go on the right path'. Typical.  
  
Being a deatheater would probably mean the same thing: always being under someone's command. People telling you what to do all of the time. Isn't it ironic? Father bowing down to this hideous vile creature after all his talk about the Malfoy pride? I just get so confused.  
  
I stopped. For a moment I stood still and listened. There was music coming from somewhere. Faintly, from a place further down the hallway. The tune was haunting, powerful and serene. Unconsciously I began to gravitate towards the source. There. An open door. I ran towards it, the soles of my shoes slapping against the floor, the sound resonating dully in the empty passage.  
  
The music abruptly stopped as I peered into the dimly lit room. A quick glance showed that no one was in the room. Strange.  
  
I glimpsed a strange silverish disc as it fell to the ground before I was suddenly enveloped in darkness.  
  
Cautiously, I brought out a small wizarding light from my pocket. It gleamed falteringly before slowly proceeding to illuminate the surrounding gloom. I gasped as the contents of the room revealed themselves to me.  
  
Paintings. Dozens and dozens of paintings littered the floors and covered the walls. Some only half completed and propped up against the walls. Familiar faces stared out from them. Patil. Abbott. Boot. Finnigan. Granger... Strangely, they didn't move. It was spooky how they stared at some distant point. Rendered immobile. I brushed the surface of one. These were muggle paints. But some of them seemed to be able to see. The eyes alive in the frozen bodies, following my every move.  
  
They were done by an exceptional artist, I noted. The subject was captured perfectly, the air, the posture. It was uncanny how life-like they looked. They seemed to breathe.  
  
A gust of wind caressed my bare arm, faintly I caught the crisp and tangy exotic scent of citrus, sage and a hint of musk. It was elusive and tantalising; the next moment it was gone. I was left wondering if I had imagined it.  
  
I shivered and walked to the middle of the room to pick up the strange silver disc. It was circular and had a hole in the centre. It glinted a myriad of colours as I tilted it towards the light. Curious, I levitated it but nothing happened. I was almost sure that the music had come from the disc. I balanced the circular disc carefully on the arm of an armchair.  
  
Looking up, my eye caught a glimpse of something covered behind a paint splattered and frayed canvas. But as I moved towards it, the glowing orb suddenly fell from where it was hovering and shattered. Inky blackness encompassed the room once again.  
  
There was someone here, I realised. I could sense the potent magical signature of a very powerful wizard. It was almost tangible, resonating in the darkness. For a moment I could feel my heart stop. Then it was pounding loudly at the base of my throat.  
  
I rushed out into the torch lit corridor, my fear hurtling me down the maze of corridors till I reached the entrance to the common room, panting.  
  
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To streaker: yeah... i try hard to update frequently. thanks for noticing.  
  
To Serenitas: thanks =).  
  
To beautiful elf: haha yeah i get totally obsessed! i think i would do the same thing. i'm taking down notes everywhere. there was this one time i was baking and i just stopped. screamed. and ran for a pen and paper. my hands were covered with flour and stuff. my mom went nuts.  
  
To L.C.: wow gee... that does pile on the pressure. but thanks!  
  
To JE: oh god you're so lucky you get maths... i totally don't sigh... and i hate working on it, i think i'm more of a lang person. best of luck for the exams and thanks for the idea... i'll sleep on it but i'm not very sure abt it.  
  
To She-Who-Is-Not-To-Be-Psyc: really? thanks for telling me.  
  
To Rin: aak... i'm trying i'm trying!  
  
To frizzy: glad you like it so far. about seamus... hmz...  
  
To Jade Maxwell: i thought i'd give ron abit more personality and insight coz everyone seems to think he's hotheaded and prejudiced.  
  
To BJ Jones: refer to above... that's exactly what i mean. thanks for always always reviewing!  
  
To Lily Evans Potter Black Lupin: thanks.  
  
To Icy Flame: thanks for the encouragement. yah i figured there must be a reason why harry sticks with ron. and i like my characters with more depth... even seamus... later you'll see...  
  
To katrina: nice to hear from you again. i think the paintings are a projection of harry's unconscious mind. he's still pretty much in denial. as in he knows what happened but he can't seem to link it to himself. that's why he had remained so calm so far. strangely detached. wait til he totally breaks down.  
  
To Pepsi: yeah... so far it's pretty sad. hell lot of angst. but it'll get better. there's just some issues that have to be gotten over first. 


	8. Diversion

Disclaimer: nothing belongs to me except the plot, oh and maybe a few extra liberties I've taken along the way.  
  
Ok... just received review alerts in my email inbox and suddenly I could feel my heart speeding up. I just know someone's going to flame me soon. aak! Sorry paranoid moment.  
  
Hm... sorry about this chapter coming so late had a hard time with my computer, it kept hanging. But this chapter's an extra long one so I hope it makes up for the delay. There isn't that much action in here. But let me tell it my way, take things slowly and let people get acquainted with the characters. There are some loose ends here and there which I will take care of as the story moves on. Hope you like this. Please R & R. Thanks a mil!  
  
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Chapter 8  
  
More deatheater attacks. Each night Harry would wake, covered in a thin sheen of cold sweat, his blankets twisted among his limbs and shoved half off the bed. Elusive specks of light danced in his vision, as if they were remnants of the dreams. There was pain in the dreams. Always the same excruciating torment, one long stretch of unrelenting crushing pain. Yet because of the different faces, he was able to distinguish between them. At first he would cry, tears streaming silently down his face. He would weep for them, knowing he was helpless but compelled to watch their agony. Then he had no more tears to shed. Just anguish that condensed and crystallized in his heart, carving deep wounds within.  
  
He sometimes welcomed the pain, a greater suffering which eclipsed that of his own. A distraction from the turmoil of memories that wracked his mind. But he hated himself for thinking that way, it was selfish. Disgusting.  
  
Harry paused in mid-step. It took a few moments for Ron and Hermione to notice; by the time they looked back, they were already a few metres ahead. Ron's shout died at the base of his throat as Hermione urgently squeezed his elbow. He threw a questioning glance at the brunette, who indicated to their friend with a slight tilt of her head. Curious, Ron followed Harry's fixated gaze toward a clump of trees to their right.  
  
Red ribbons encircling the condemned trees read: Diseased, By Order of the Parks Department. The destruction had already begun, clipped branches were stacked neatly as if they were two-by-fours. Some of the trees stood blighted, trying to raise their stunted arms, creatures clubbed mute, only its sudden voicelessness making it clear they had been speaking all along.  
  
Time lay stagnant for a few moments, the air coagulating with a strange hint of ruin and muted tones of fear. There was an unspoken anticipation of something. As if they were waiting. Then the suffocating silence broke under the sudden whisper of dry leaves under Harry's feet as he moved to meet them, smiling. Autumn wind wailed into the vacuum, leaves rustled harshly or caught up in a sudden gust and danced across the grayish sky. They suddenly found they could breathe again, not having noticed when they stopped.  
  
It was a Hogsmeade weekend. They had started off early, to miss the rush of students with their cheerful greetings and scarves that threw splashes of colour against the bleak sky. They savoured the indifferent dawn and subdued air that brought a momentary peace in the havoc of their lives. There would be time for light-hearted fun later. The somber autumn morning suited their mood at the moment.  
  
"Sorry," Harry said as he caught up with his friends.  
  
Then half to himself, slightly dazed, "I felt like I could feel them speak."  
  
"Who?" Ron glanced warily over the barren landscape. There wasn't a person in sight.  
  
"The trees."  
  
"Don't scare me, Harry." Ron laughed nervously. In response Harry only smiled wistfully.  
  
Hermione glanced thoughtfully at Harry, her nimble mind filing away the information for future reference.  
  
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The warm butterbear felt comforting in their cold hands and it burned a path down their throats as they gulped it down thirstily. The second one, they held onto, nursing it to keep their fingers toasty while they sat in companionable silence. They enjoyed these moments of comfortable silence, none of them felt the need to speak.  
  
The first students were beginning to trickle in, most were wide-eyed third years. The older students opted to sleep in as the novelty of Hogsmeade had worn thin.  
  
As others began to crowd the room, the room became animated with new voices and laughter. The three friends mingled and chatted about schoolwork with their peers, grateful for the reminder of normality in their tumultuous lives. At eleven the trio parted separate ways and promised to meet up again before they left.  
  
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Harry emerged from the dusty shop, carrying a parcel packaged in green parchment paper. He shrunk it quickly before furtively slipping it into his pocket.  
  
He unconsciously smoothed down the robes before stepping into another shop to buy new quills. Brushing the tops of the quills with his fingertips, he marvelled at the range. Just as he was about to pick out a pure white one with a black tip, he was stopped by a hand on his upper arm. Harry's breath shortened, he resisted his first impulse to wrench his arm out of the firm grasp. He flailed silently among memories even as his mind reasoned that the Dursleys' could not possibly be in Hogsmeade. It was irrational. He tried not to struggle as the grip tightened slightly.  
  
"Harry."  
  
Harry relaxed immediately at the familiar voice, the tension seeping out of his rigid muscles. "Seamus!"  
  
"Were you expecting someone else, love?" The sandy haired boy smiled flirtatiously.  
  
"Not really... Merlin, don't do that again."  
  
"Harry, are you alright?" Seamus frowned.  
  
Harry took a deep breath and smiled convincingly. "So... why were you looking for me again?"  
  
Seamus' face broke out in a big grin. "I'm going to take you shopping!"  
  
Harry laughed at his friend's enthusiasm. "What's the occasion?"  
  
"There's going to be a big birthday bash for one of the Slytherins next Friday. And invitations are out by word of mouth only. You know how Slytherins are, them with more money than they know what to do with. It'll be a hell lot of fricking fun. They'll be alcohol, dancing and everything. C'mon, when's the last time you went out on a party?"  
  
" Well, I dunno about that, I'll ask Ron and Mio..."  
  
"Aw... those two are never any fun. Anyway, it'll be a chance for them to be alone," Seamus winked suggestively, "Besides, I'm going, aren't I your friend too?"  
  
"er... yes... I guess."  
  
"So you're going?" Hopeful expression plus puppy dog eyes.  
  
"Maybe." Harry replied rather vaguely.  
  
"Yes, I knew you would go! Meanwhile let's get you some clothes!" Seamus shouted, ignoring Harry's protestations and dragging him down the street.  
  
It was lucky that they had the presence of mind to stop by Gringotts to withdraw money before they went off on their spree. In the end it turned out that Seamus didn't have to drag Harry anywhere. Harry showed a natural talent at shopping for clothes; he had a great deal of taste. It also helped that he looked good in almost everything.  
  
The shop assistants were all over him, offering the latest and most expensively cut designs which Harry politely refused. He felt guilty enough that he was spending money on himself and was not about to splurge half his Gringotts account. But the guilt was pushed to the back of his mind. He was genuinely having fun! Seamus had a way of cheering him up. With Seamus there were no demands, no reminders, no responsibilities. Harry could live for the moment and act just like any other teenager. He felt almost normal laughing and walking around with the other boy.  
  
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Spotting Hermione and Ron sharing an ice cream cone and stamping their feet to keep warm, Harry laughed fondly, "You guys are nuts. Eating ice cream when it's so cold?"  
  
"Hey Harry!" Hermione giggled, her cheeks red with the cold.  
  
"Where did you go all day? We didn't see you anywhere." Ron added, smiling.  
  
"I was with Seamus."  
  
Ron frowned slightly, seeing Seamus tagging along behind Harry for the first time. "Oh, really?"  
  
"We were just walking around." Harry was irritated to find he was blushing and added hastily, "I bought some new clothes!"  
  
Ron did not return Harry's beam, choosing instead to stare suspiciously at the Irishman who was currently looking rather dreamily at Harry's profile. Harry's smile faded.  
  
"That's great Harry! So what did you buy?" Hermione enthused, trying to lift Harry's mood.  
  
"I... well I know I shouldn't have spent so much on myself." Harry looked crestfallen and uncertain.  
  
"Don't be silly, you hardly buy anything for yourself. Besides you need new clothes." Hermione declared, before grinning widely, "So where did you go? Any particular shops that are good? The next time we come out I'll show you some of my favorites!"  
  
Harry laughed at his friend's eagerness, "I didn't know you liked to shop for clothes!"  
  
Hermione mock pouted and said airily, "There's alot about me that you don't know. Women are mysterious creatures."  
  
Ron choked on his ice cream. For a moment Hermione looked as if she was offended but she grinned and stuffed a handful of dry leaves down the back of Ron's robe. Harry and Seamus laughed as Ron chased the screaming Hermione down the road.  
  
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"Harry! Wait!" They turned to find a panting second year Gryffindor running after them.  
  
"Laurie! What..."  
  
"Professor Snape wants to see you, he says it's urgent!" Laurie gasped out.  
  
"Did he say what he wanted?" Hermione asked urgently.  
  
"No. He just said something about someone here to see Harry. I can't really remember the rest." Laurie explained apologetically.  
  
"I think I'd better go then." Harry replied quietly. "You guys go back to the common room first."  
  
"Do you want..." Ron attempted.  
  
"No." Harry said firmly. Then his face softened when he saw his friend's worried expression. "I'll be fine. Tell you when I get back."  
  
"Harry wait!" Seamus cried out to the fast disappearing back.  
  
The footsteps halted and from further down the hallway came the exasperated voice. "What?"  
  
"Want us to take your stuff back?"  
  
"Sure, thanks!"  
  
The single black bag Harry had been carrying came hurtling down the corridor, causing them to wince and duck. But before it reached them, it stopped dead, floating innocuously inches from their faces.  
  
The two boys laughed nervously. Ron plucked it from midair.  
  
"I..I'm going to the library." Hermione announced suddenly.  
  
"Do you want me to go with you?"  
  
"No, I just want to check up something, Ron."  
  
"Meet you at dinner?"  
  
She smiled, "It's a long time til dinner."  
  
"I know but you always spend the whole day there."  
  
"I'll only be there for five minutes." Then seeing his expression, added guiltily, "I promise."  
  
Hermione watched as the two boys disappeared down a turn. She waited until she could no longer hear their voices and muttered an incantation, watching as multicolour threads wove across the length of the corridor. The traces of magic lingered for awhile before slowly dissipating and becoming hazy. She frowned.  
  
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To JE: ooh... demanding aren't we.... i like it when you go totally off tangent. the dictionary thing was funny. and whoa this is a long review.... what do u mean my draco is nicer? when the draco in your mind gave harry a blowjob? haha... wait until i get to the sex scenes. then it'd be fun.... but it's still a long way off.... sigh... working on it...  
  
To Ice Lupus: argh! more stress!  
  
To ncgal: thanks =)  
  
To katrina: guess this chapter explains it.  
  
To Jade Maxwell: haha i wanted to do that for a long time. seamus tends to get on my nerves too.  
  
To frizzy: jealous? they aren't in much of a relationship yet for draco to be jealous. hm.... i think he just doesn't like seamus.  
  
To Silver Angel: yeah.... it would be cool for harry to be an artist. he seems the type.  
  
To BJ Jones: stay tuned and find out =) more soul searching ahead for all parties.  
  
To eMJay: yup... i guess i took a few liberties... damn... hm.... i'll try to explain that one away... haha  
  
To suse: glad you managed to find the story again.... sorry about the change of title. hmz... yah... looking forward to writing abt harry's breakdown... isn't that sadistic? haha  
  
To KittenBabyGirl: yeah... must learn to strike a balance between work and play.  
  
To Slytherin-ferret: i would pay you to tell my english teacher that but then again she'll go like: if only you put that much effort into your school work... haha. thanks. 


	9. Obvious

Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
Hi all I'm sorry about this but I was informed by a reader that what I wrote the last time was inaccurate coz UK has free med care from the NHS. There's no such thing as the insurance thing I stuck in. So I decided to change the story abit, mainly the part where Harry is situated in a storage room. I realised how unlikely an event that is and it's as if I were deliberately trying to make Harry suffer. So this is the newer (hopefully better) version. Thanks Sophie for telling me about it.  
  
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"Eo ire itum!" Harry gasped out as he neared the twin entwining snakes mounted on the wall.  
  
The snakes' eyes glowed with sapphire luminescence before shifting, gliding to the edges of a thin frame of braided silver. The wall before him seemed to dissolve and revealed a doorway into which he stepped.  
  
Harry let his eyes adjust to the light as he took in his surroundings.  
  
The luxurious room had surprised him on his first visit. Previously, he had never imagined that the austere potions master had such comfortable and lavish furnishings. The richness of the colours, deep wall to wall carpeting and such extravagance in adornment did not seem fitting with his former impressions of the professor. Indeed with the passing of time they had come to know each other much better. Only then had Harry realised how different the man was from the cold figure he had imagined him to be.  
  
"Professor!" He called out to the empty room.  
  
Curiously there was no reply, he fidgeted uncomfortably. He felt awkward and out of place in his gilded surroundings, he was more at home with simple lines and modest furniture. And it was the first time he was alone in that room, the silence was eerie.  
  
"Perhaps Laurie made a mistake?" He wondered worriedly after a few minutes, "Snape will think I'm breaking in..."  
  
Snape was a private man and he would not welcome this intrusion. Harry was thinking of leaving when the door to the inner chambers crashed open and the sound of voices drifted through. The face of his potions professor registered such surprise at the sight of him that Harry blushed and began to apologize profusely for interrupting.  
  
Snape took a few moments to compose himself and reassured Harry by saying, "No, it's alright. I sent for you. I just didn't think you'd get here to early. It is a Hogsmeades weekend. And I..."  
  
Before he could continue a familiar face appeared behind Snape's shoulder, drowning out the words from Harry's ears. The teenager stared, then disbelief giving way to complete happiness, he launched himself into the arms of the newcomer.  
  
"Harry!" The man exclaimed delightedly, wrapping his arms around the effeminate frame.  
  
"What are you doing here Sirius?" Harry exclaimed after a few moments, "Not that I'm complaining but... Is it something for Dumbledore?"  
  
"Harry... I..." Sirius suddenly looked weary and troubled.  
  
Harry glanced at him, suddenly concerned. Sirius wasn't looking very well, it was apparent that he had not had a decent meal for a long time. He looked gaunt and tired lines had carved their mark on his face.  
  
"Harry, I told him what happened." Snape interjected.  
  
"About what?" Harry asked, almost absently as he turned to the professor.  
  
Then he blanched and carefully removed his arms from around his godfather's waist. When he spoke again Harry seemed so fearful that Snape flinched, "As in..."  
  
"Yes, I told him what happened last summer." Snape said and added in a half whisper, "What has been going on for a long time."  
  
"But you said..." Harry muttered brokenly.  
  
"I know I ... Oh god Harry. I'm sorry." Snape blurted out, "But he's your godfather, he has a right to know."  
  
Harry had withdrawn from the other two, his hands clenched into fists. Then he burst out.  
  
"But you promised. I knew I shouldn't have told you. I can't trust you. You think your helping but... You had no right to tell. Who else? You said I didn't have to, now more people know. I don't want people to worry. I am such a waste of time. I deserve this. They'll find him. Sirius, they'll find you here! You have to go. Don't do this, not for me... I always get people into trouble..."  
  
Sirius stepped over and gently drew the incoherent angel into his arms. Slowly, Harry stopped his rambling and began to calm down. The violent trembling of his body subsiding.  
  
The older man asked anxiously, "Harry are you alright? Why didn't you tell me? I could have..."  
  
Immediately, Harry drew away a second time, smiling blankly, eyes unreadable, "Sirius, I'm fine. Really I am."  
  
Sirius exchanged a baffled glance with the potions master. He soothed gently, "Harry it's all right. I'm here, why don't you talk to me?"  
  
"About what? There's nothing to talk about really." Harry looked genuinely perplexed for a second, then brightening, inquired, "What have you been up to? I missed you so much."  
  
Severus couldn't bear it and silently motioned that he was going to leave the room. Sirius nodded absently, his attention on his godson, the anxiety apparent in his eyes.  
  
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Severus' POV  
  
Severus retreated to his inner chambers, he felt guilty but at the same time relieved like he had unloaded a huge burden from his chest. He wasn't good with words, he never was. And he had no idea how to handle this situation. Having Harry confide in him just made him feel awkward and angry at his helplessness. It was at the back of his mind that he knew that he was pushing the responsibility away. He was afraid that he wouldn't be able to cope and his first instinct was to get someone else to take over.  
  
"Sirius would be good for Harry. A father figure, one I can never live up to. Sirius is what Harry needs." Severus tried to convince himself.  
  
When Harry began telling him about his experiences, Severus had no idea of the extent of the abuse. The damage done to the frail body should have cued him in, but he was unable to accept the physical evidence. He was caught unprepared when Harry revealed the truth. What Harry had said completely shocked him to the core, for a moment he thought that Harry was making it up. It was a reflex not from the old bias but rather an inability to comprehend that a child had been treated in such a way, by his own relatives nonetheless. The cruelty was unfathomable.  
  
However, what was more frightening was the way Harry seemed to talk with such clarity and detail about what happened and stay so emotionless. There were no feelings involved when Harry was relating the instances, it almost seemed like he was recalling the facts in a textbook. He appeared as if he were draining away the emotions by abstracting his problems. This detachment was confusing to say the least.  
  
Severus sighed wearily, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He sat watching the fire for a long while before he finally got up with the intention of pouring himself a G&T.  
  
As an afterthought, he replaced the tonic in his glass cabinet and took only the bottle of gin over to his seat. He swigged a mouthful straight from the bottle, wincing as it scorched his throat. The second swallow went down smoother. He could felt the alcohol course through his veins, like fingers of fire flickering to the surface of his skin. And he sat there. Remembering.  
  
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"Are you his father?" The nurse drawled, casually flicking off a piece of lint from her crumpled uniform.  
  
He was in a muggle hospital. A rather rundown one by the looks of it. There were coffee cups crusted over from yesterday's brew stacked in the corner with a hot water dispenser carrying a crooked 'out-of-order' sign. The small room reeked from the metallic odour of blood and an equally unpleasant smell of strong bleach. The counter before him was stained by a mysterious brownish substance that Severus reverently hoped was coffee. He was currently separated from the nurse by thick bars of steel and bullet proof glass.  
  
"Must be a very rough neighbourhood," Severus thought to himself before answering, "No, an uncle."  
  
The nurse sighed and put down a rather limp and soggy sandwich, getting mayonnaise over her thumb. Inserting her thumb into her mouth, she took the counterfeit documents that he handed over with her other hand and gave them a cursory glance before returning them to him with a nonchalant "If you say so."  
  
She removed the thumb, wiped it on her uniform and waved him on dismissively.  
  
"Which room?" Severus bit out, barely hiding his disgust.  
  
"Down the corridor. Last door on the right." She said without looking up.  
  
He made his way down the hallway, wondering, "What the hell did Potter get himself into this time?"  
  
It was a standard hospital room. The walls painted a ghastly green, obviously from some misguided individual who believed that it would 'brighten' up the room. Personally Severus preferred the more traditional white layout. The present scheme cast a sickly gleam to everything in the room, even the bedsheets took on a mildewed appearance.  
  
It was Potter alright, there's no mistaking the hair and scar, the only parts visible above the sheets. The form within the white sheets was still. It looked impossibly small.  
  
"But then the bed is quite large," Severus reminded himself.  
  
"Sir?" A shy voice interrupted his contemplation.  
  
He looked up to find a gawky teenager at the entrance of the room, he raised his eyebrow in inquiry. As she came closer, he noticed the label 'Student Nurse' half peeling off the front of her uniform. He cleared his throat and asked rather irritably, "Yes?"  
  
"Well...I... I'm not supposed to be doing this but..."  
  
He waited impatiently for her to continue but his attention was more on the form lying in the bed. When it was obvious she was waiting for some kind of response, he half snarled, "Do what? Speak up girl."  
  
She flinched at his harsh tone but handed over a medical chart as she explained, "The doctors here can't seem to find anything really wrong with him. But it doesn't make sense, there must be something otherwise he wouldn't be in such a condition. His pulse is weak and his blood pressure dangerously low. I... well this is stupid... but I was hoping..."  
  
He tuned her out and scanned through the doctor's careless scrawls. All pretty minor injuries. Bruising and slight lacerations. 'Gang Fighting' was scrawled over the base of the chart by a different hand. It was underlined several times by a thick black marker. Severus frowned slightly. The injuries were inconsistent with those of face to face fighting. Whatever it was, Potter was not the aggressor.  
  
"So it was a gang fight?" He demanded.  
  
"Oh... that's what his uncle said when they brought him here. His other uncle I mean..." She replied nervously.  
  
He glanced at the intimidated girl and softened his tone, "Where are his uncle now?"  
  
"I... I don't know... They never came..." She looked slightly bewildered.  
  
He pulled back the sheets slightly and took hold of a limp hand. The form did not stir. There. These were signs of self defense. The cuts on the palms and wrists. As he was returning the hand to Potters side, he noticed that the slight pressure of his hand on the wrist had caused the cuts to bleed.  
  
"Strange." Severus mused, "The cuts are so shallow, the blood should have clotted by now."  
  
"That's what I meant..."  
  
He threw a look that silenced her. He leaned closer to the unconscious body and frowned, perplexed, the erratic and shallow breathing he noted were further indications that something was very wrong with the equation.  
  
"The injuries are so minor, why is he unconscious? A blow to the head?" He considered to himself.  
  
He ran his fingers gently along the scalp, feeling for bumps or wounds. Severus scowled as his search proved unsuccessful. There was only one other explanation.  
  
"Sir?" The nurse asked, baffled by his behaviour.  
  
"But it's not possible. No one can cast concealing charms while still unconscious. He can't be that powerful... but there's no other way." Severus pondered.  
  
Aloud, he said to the student nurse, "I'll be transferring him to another hospital. Please inform the necessary people and could you bring me the paperwork? I don't want to leave him."  
  
"Right away, sir." The freckled girl retrieved the charts hurriedly and gave a timid smile of assent.  
  
Severus waited until she left and closed the door before he drew his wand. He cast a locking spell and quickly performed a scan along the length of the motionless body. A sinister reddish glow encompassed the frail frame.  
  
Beginning to panic but still hanging onto the possibility that he was wrong, Severus took a deep breath and flicked his wrist, "Finite Incanteum."  
  
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Notes:  
  
eo ire itum: to go, advance, proceed, progress  
  
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the new replies will appear on the next chapter.  
  
To ncgal: thanks  
  
To zeynel: haha patience dear, i'm working on it.  
  
To Pepsi: oh my... i really am very flattered. thanks. i know what you mean, i hardly ever reviewed myself, that is until i started writing my own story. oopz.  
  
To eMJay: nah he can't talk to trees, that would be abit overdoing it. i guess he's just erm.... sensitive? and yup i will remember to answer those questions. don't worry. =)  
  
To Jade Maxwell: mione is annoying you? oh dear. hmz but her odd behaviour will be explained. and draco will be featured later, =) it is a story about the both of them.  
  
To katrina: yes i'm so crazy about shopping too... poor harry. hmz... i wonder if i should even have mentioned the tree thingy, it's just something that popped into my mind. anyway as i told emjay, nope he won't be speaking to trees. that is just too.... weird.  
  
To suse: i do exactly the same thing when i get reviews, and then i stay hyper for the rest of the day, haha. oh so did snape do the thing you thought he did? and seamus... hmz... i'll think about it. =)  
  
To summersday: i like leaving things open to possiblity, even though i do have a sorta vague idea how everything should go. that way i can take up new ideas from friends and reviewers and work it into my story. =)  
  
To JE: yup the previous chapter was pretty boring, no action. sigh. but that's life sometimes. and i'll answer those questions later. no rush. =) as for the steamy sex bits, i'm trying to get to it (believe me). but it must seem natural, not rushed and all of a sudden.  
  
To Amy: gee thanks, and i'll get to those things. 


	10. Emotions

Disclaimer: It would be wonderful if I owned them... *bambi eyes*... pretty please? with a cherry and a cupcake and ice cream with hot fudge on top? *sniffles abit* damn now i'm hungry.  
  
To all: I was told that the reviews to the newer version of chapter 9 couldn't be posted for those who had already posted for the old chapter. Sorry about that. and I sincerely missed your comments. Please combine the reviews for chapter 9 with this one. thanks a bil. Love you guys.  
  
For this chapter, at least someone's getting some action. =) erm and sorry about the rating change. wasn't sure how graphic it can be for PG-13. so i took the safe road.  
  
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Feather like caresses along her inner thigh made her gasp aloud. Immediately, familiar warm lips swept over her own, demanding her complete attention. The fiery kiss swallowed the moan that escaped her mouth.  
  
Hungrily she pressed back against the firm body, gratified by the hardness pressing with urgency against her lower stomach. Her nose filled with his musky scent and she whimpered with need.  
  
His hands ran languidly along her sides to the swells of her breasts. They lingered there on top of the thin material of her bra. The heat burning into her, causing her nipples to stiffen in anticipation.  
  
He pushed against her lightly and she surrendered, falling back on the bed. His toned body covered her own as their tongues battled again for supremacy. The cool sheets yielding to their forms. She ran her fingers into his hair, stroking the base of his neck. His lips planted small gentle soft kisses, tracing the line of her jaw.  
  
This slow love making was so unlike the frenzied passion she was used to. It was sensual and erotic, leaving her to relish the new sensations she was experiencing and feeling.  
  
"Oh my... wait... please...stop..." She whispered incoherently.  
  
He pretended not to hear her. His right hand slid innocently down her leg, caressing the back of her knee. She gave a weak "Oh." of surprise, panting heavily with arousal. Momentarily speechless as the breath was taken away from her.  
  
Fearful of losing total control, she grabbed his hand, "Stop... really, I mean it."  
  
He kissed her again slowly, with smothering passion in his eyes, before reluctantly shifting away so he could see her better. He asked curiously, "What is it Mione?"  
  
"I... I can't do this now." Hermione gasped out, distracted by his fingers circling her erect nipples.  
  
"Why?" He murmured, blowing cool air against her neck.  
  
She arched her neck towards the delightful sensation, yearning for his touch again, barely able to articulate, "It's... it's not... right."  
  
"It's not?" He smiled playfully, reaching for her again.  
  
She stiffened as his hands wrapped around her slim waist, "Stop... don't."  
  
He withdrew this time, irked by her rebuffs, then sighed wearily. He pouted childishly, "I guess this isn't one of those role playing games then. And here I was thinking you had a nonconsensual fetish."  
  
Hermione giggled, then paled when she remembered her object of contemplation.  
  
"Harry..." Hermione mused, frowning.  
  
"Oh dammit Mione, I keep forgetting. I'm sorry, I always say the wrong thing."  
  
They sat in silence a while longer, the sheets twisted about their naked forms.  
  
"I guess the mood's gone now." He said wryly.  
  
She hit him with a pillow, then laughed as he ducked the blow and tackled her by the waist. He landed on top of her, straddling her small form with his own. For a moment it seemed like he was going to kiss her again but she slid out from beneath him.  
  
"Damn it Mione," He cursed under his breath, "Do you have to be such a tease?"  
  
"I can't do this now, I can't do it while I'm thinking of him."  
  
He slammed the pillow against the bed post in frustration. She flinched at the uncharacteristic show of violence.  
  
"I'm sorry... I thought..." Hermione ventured.  
  
"You thought what Mione?" He demanded impatiently, "Why don't you just tell me what you're thinking?"  
  
"I..."  
  
"You want him don't you? Just say you do. I can never measure up to him." He whispered dangerously, "Why did you lead me on like this if all you ever wanted was him?"  
  
He made as if to leave.  
  
"Don't say that!" Hermione screamed. "I love you, you know that."  
  
He turned back to her then, eyes entreating her.  
  
"I love you." She repeated, more calmly.  
  
He settled back onto the bed, shaking slightly, "Mione, you'll be the death of me you know."  
  
"Hush..." She soothed, rubbing his back in a large circular motion. She kissed his cheek softly, feeling the delicious roughness of his unshaven chin against her lips.  
  
"I'm so sorry." He whispered softly, looking lost and vulnerable.  
  
"So am I, Ron," She replied, "So am I."  
  
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Sirius rubbed his face wearily. Glancing at the form snuggled up on Snape's couch, the blanket moving imperceptibly with each precious breath the boy took.  
  
Sirius padded softly to the door to the inner chambers where Snape had disappeared into earlier. He lifted his hand to knock, but his knuckles had barely grazed the wood when the door eased open, silent on its well oiled hinges.  
  
Revealing, in all its magnificence, an unconscious potions master, sprawled gracelessly on the carpet. An empty bottle of gin lay beside his prone form.  
  
This was certainly something to drive a man to drink, Sirius mused wryly as he dragged the dead weight onto the bed. Cursing under his breath as he stubbed his toe on the bed post.  
  
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"So what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Ron asked after a few moments of innocent cuddling.  
  
"It's about Harry." Hermione replied, "Something's up with him."  
  
"How did I know it would be about him?" Ron sighed petulantly.  
  
"Ron..." Hermione said warningly.  
  
"Ok ok..." He still looked vaguely resentful, "But I don't understand how it has anything to do with why I can't make love to you."  
  
"Because I'm worried and when I'm worried I can't get into the mood."  
  
"You were very much into the mood just now," Ron smirked as he remembered her crying out as he...  
  
"Ron, be serious." Hermione admonished, though her cheeks were an incriminating red.  
  
"Ok what? Just shoot."  
  
"You know that Harry is a very powerful wizard right?"  
  
"Yes. Old news. Get on with it."  
  
"Well he's starting to do wandless magic..."  
  
"Not surprising. It's Harry after all, I stopped being surprised after that parsel tongue incident."  
  
"...and he's not really in control of his magic."  
  
"um... What do you mean?" Ron asked, perplexed.  
  
"Do you notice his paintings? How strange they are getting? Not the images themselves but something else... I can't tell you what at the moment... it's hard to describe... And how they seem to move although they were painted with muggle paints? And how he thought that the trees were talking to him? How he hears voices?" Hermione explained in a rush, "Whether consciously or not, Harry is giving off raw magic. The magic interferes with the paints. And it envelops him. It's so strong that as it encompasses him it sort of whispers, the effect is especially significant when emotions are high."  
  
"Wait... I... It makes sense really," Ron mused, "And here we were thinking that Harry just had a very distinct aura."  
  
"Auras are a different thing altogether," Hermione dismissed testily, "Ron, Harry's in danger if it goes on like this. Now the magic is just leaking out, I think it's because there are feelings or thoughts that he can't handle and they are pushing him to the edge of his tolerance level..."  
  
"No prizes for guessing what."  
  
"...and if he can't handle it anymore... I don't know what will happen." Hermione ended quietly.  
  
"The books didn't say?" Ron asked worriedly.  
  
"Well, let's just say that all the cases ended badly," Hermione chewed her lower lip nervously, "If Harry doesn't get help now, the release of so much magic at one time will cause extensive damage to himself and all others remotely in the surrounding areas. It's like when a dam collapses. Everything downstream and in the way of the water will be destroyed."  
  
"But I thought Harry was ok now... At least he doesn't have nightmares." Then Ron's face paled as the thought occurred to him, "Oh."  
  
Hermione nodded, confirming his suspicions, "Silencing spells."  
  
"Ron," She said wearily, "People don't just 'get over' things like rape and abuse. I've been lying to myself for some time that Harry had been handling it well. I was afraid... I... I should have known..."  
  
"...that he was handling things too well." Ron finished for her.  
  
"What should we do?" Hermione asked brokenly.  
  
Ron gathered her into his arms, "Whatever we can do."  
  
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how many people actually thought harry and mione were getting it on in the first part? would i actually do that? *looks wide eyed and innocent*  
  
To Amy: well they are getting abit longer as i go along. i will try but that will mean that i will update less often. the 'harry problem' will be explained later.  
  
To icklechuck: ooh... i love having new readers. thanks.  
  
To BJ Jones: nice to hear from you again =). hmz... yah sirius is going to be around abit more. guilt attack from not knowing what was happening to harry.  
  
To zeynel: aak sevie and sirius? oh no... sorry i'm not very into that match... =)... hmz... the rest. oh dear... i will fit some of them in... duh.... it's supposed to be dm/hp right? but like i always say it'll take time. i'm not deliberately torturing people here, although it's a tempting idea. make everyone wait... haha. seriously though, it's gotta be believable, so please hold on.  
  
To Sophie: thanks a bil. i didn't know that... obviously i don't live in the UK... wow you guys are lucky then. sorry bout that. but i did try to make it up to you by rewriting the chapter. hope it's better.  
  
To summersday: thanks alot. i'm really very flattered. =) it's nice to have someone so enthusiatic about the story!  
  
To katrina: haha ok, glad we agree.  
  
To noraseyes: thanks.  
  
To stargazer: well yeah... i guess in that sense you can call me a perfectionist. i don't want the story to seem unplausable. so i had to change it.  
  
To kyotyred: oh another new reviewer! thanks so much! thrilled that you like this so far.  
  
To JE: oh dear, didn't mean to make you confused. =) just check what happens next in the coming chapters.  
  
To psycho tabby cat: yeah i do know what you mean by 'bad for study habits' i get so addicted to reading all these stories and keep obsessing about them all the time. and i keep checking for updates. gosh. and as a result my A levels sucked big time. whoopz. don't do the same thing.  
  
To Jade Maxwell: thanks. hmz... i want to make those stupid dursleys suffer too. any ideas? something likely to happen and not too extreme. i don't believe that sirius and ron and others can have their revenge by torturing them and get away without repercussions.  
  
To suse: thanks for the really long review, could tell you put alot of thought into it and i really appreciate it. i'm glad you like the changing of POVs. =) i admit that draco is abit MIA for a slash story. but don't worry he'll come in soon. 


	11. Awake

Hey there. I'm so sorry I didn't mean to make you guys wait so long for this update. It's just that I've just started university and have this really crazy workload already. I promise I'll try to update as often as I can though. I really appreciate everyone's comments on the last chapter. Some of them were really well thought out and you guys noticed some things which I had previously not been aware of. I love all those lovely long reviews. *hint* Thanks again.  
  
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The sun shine stung his eyelids; he could see blotches of red light even though his eyes remained resolutely closed. For a moment he imagined that it was a normal day and he was a normal teenager looking forward to a regular school day. He would go to school say hi to his friends, hang around the lockers for awhile and play hooky. He let himself relish his fantasy for a while longer, filling his world with imaginary friends, Rob, Taylor and Sean. They would hang around after class to shoot hoops while talking about girls and cars. The crick in his neck grew too uncomfortable for him to ignore. Reluctantly he shifted, his eyes fluttering open. Yawning he stretched cat like on the couch.   
  
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"He's awake." Sirius winced as a crackle of magical energy ran through the room.  
  
"Don't state the obvious," Severus replied grumpily.  
  
"My aren't we cheerful today."  
  
Severus sneered.  
  
"It's your own bloody fault you drank that whole bottle." Sirius replied nonchalantly, albeit good-naturedly.  
  
Severus didn't think that that warranted a response. He turned back to his coffee, which was laced with a strong painkiller. He tried to unsuccessfully to ignore the painful throbbing in his head, made worse by the pulses of magic that Harry let off unconsciously. He was surprised and indeed intrigued, no one had ever recorded such powerful magical emissions before. Harry must be a very powerful wizard to let off surges of magic and remain relatively unaffected by it. However the fact that it was draining on Harry was apparent. It showed up in ways that you would not visually notice but the weariness in Harry's eyes betrayed the tiredness.   
  
Severus had a stong suspicion that Harry had been experimenting with concealment charms. However he was sure that this was not the time to confront Harry about them. It would just send him further inside his shell. It was difficult enough to set up this fragile link of trust. Severus was afraid to be too sure of his place in Harry's confidence. He knew that the only reason why Harry had told him anything was that the others would overreact and make a big fuss over it. There was no other logical reason why Harry would choose him over anyone else. Hell, if Malfoy had been around it is possible that Harry would have chosen him as a confidant.  
  
Severus had been more shocked by Harry's confession than he had let on. Years of training allowed him to keep his emotions in check. However for a long time after Harry had finished relating his ordeal Severus was at a loss for words. He felt an overwhelming uncharacteristic urge to take the boy in his arms and rock him till he forgot his pain. He had encountered cases of child abuse but none as serious as Harry's. He regretted more than ever his behaviour towards this delicate boy. He had never let prejudice blind him so much as it did in Harry's case. It was time to set aside old rivaries and see the boy, no, man, for what he was. Harry had never been allowed a childhood. It was unfair as well as naive to see him as anything less than an adult. He had gone through more than what most people go through in their whole life times. The terrible loss of his parents, the neglect and abuse from his relatives, the ever present horror of Voldemort haunting his footsteps, hunting down those he loved. Death, pain and suffering seemed to dog his steps as he stumbled bewilderedly though life. Any lesser man would have succumbed by now.   
  
It was eerie how Harry managed to remain so composed and calm when he related the incidents. It seemed as if he were talking about something that had occurred to someone else, someone he didn't relate to, a movie character perhaps. Something unreal and vague. It was obvious that he was keeping the hurt inside himself. What Harry needed was to have a good cry, to let it all out.   
  
In order to do so he must have someone to talk to, someone he trusted, that wouldn't judge him. Ron and Hermione obviously cared for him but they were sometimes too overwhelming. Anyway, the fact that they were a couple drove Harry away from them. It was not a deliberate act, rather an unconscious one. Harry had never actually experienced love before and hence shied away from what he could not understand. However Hermione and Ron tried to make him feel as if nothing had changed it weighed on Harry that he was an unwanted intrusion to their new found intimacy. Sirius was the next obvious choice, however the fact that he was still on the run prevented Harry from telling him anything that would worry him. He cared too much for Sirius to let him in on his pain.   
  
Severus sighed wearily. What Harry needed was someone akin to a lover. Someone he could bare his soul to. But knowing Harry it would be difficult to find someone who didn't look at Harry and see his fame as the Boy-who-lived instead of who he really is. It was nearly impossible to see through the cheerful persona that Harry had put up to mask his pain. The facade was flawless and it's construction was meticulous. The only possible partner would have to be unusually perceptive and sensitive.  
  
Severus snorted into his coffee, a year ago he would never have thought that he would ever be thinking of matchmaking Potter's son.   
  
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flashback  
  
  
  
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"Poppy!" Severus yelled as he carefully set the slight frame onto an empty bed.   
  
She came running, alarmed by the potion master's panicked cry. Her eyes widened at the sight of the frail body occupying barely a third of the small hospital cot. "What happened?" She asked as she mechanically began scanning for injuries, her wand glowing an ominous maroon hue, the glow of which intensified at various regions.   
  
She gasped as she realised the extent of Harry's injuries. Ignoring the tears that coursed down her cheeks she adopted a business-like manner, both systematic and efficient. Severus admired her for that. He felt powerless to do anything except watch.   
  
It seemed like hours as Pomfrey struggled to keep her patient alive. She had a lot of trouble with the concealment charms. Even with the most powerful counter charm the concealment charms would reappear moments later, leaving her with only mintues to analyse and treat the wounds. Harry had lost a massive amount of blood and was going into shock. She set up a blood transfusion rack, the red liquid fed into him intraveously. At one point the needle came out and the blood soaked through the sheets so that she had to change them to see what she was doing.   
  
Blood pooled at the ledge of the bed, staining the wooden bed posts red. A single drip swelled and grew pregnant, weighed down and fell.   
  
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To all those who reviewed a million thanks. I am unable at the moment to name all of you but know that I treasure every single one of the reviews you wrote. I appreciate the thought that went behind them and I am glad that you guys like my story so much. 


	12. Contained

Dear all, I am flattered that so many of you have requested that the story be continued, some of you emailing me at my personal email address for a request of continuation. To all of the reviews, thank you for your support. I am so sorry about leaving the story hanging but I hadn't much time to start on anything. Even now during summer I am taking classes and have a midterm on Monday morning, so am unable to do more than a short update. I will try my best to keep the story going.

Draco's POV  
  
This was it. It was final and he did not have a say in it. The conclusiveness of the flourish of Father's signature on the bottom of the creamy parchment paper which had been embossed with the Malfoy seal. He traced the familiar design of the stamp with the tips of his manicured fingers, feeling the indentations and grooves of the leaves of the camellia, for money, and the snake, for renewal and eternity, a falcon for nobility, prophetic knowledge and also a representation of the human soul. It was this last observation that stuck him, he mused, not only do they require my compliance they will also demand my soul. The very essence of my being is entwined in this name; I am unable to escape the implications of being a Malfoy.  
  
He did not have to look at the exact wording, certain phrases leapt out at him, "my pleasure to inform... accepted... distinguished... from a vast selection... do not disappoint... heritage... this establishment... concur...immediately...honor...I expect nothing less..."making it obvious what his parents required of him. Of course it was not so direct as a mention of the true intent of the letter, nothing so crude. Or dangerous. However elegantly worded and prolonged, the message itself was unambiguous and succinct in its purpose, he was to join soon after graduating. They had refused him even the year of freedom he proposed under the ruse of wanting to see the world. Apparently their obligation to their Dark Lord was greater than that they had as parents.  
  
He knew he should not resent it of them; he had not expected to be humored in any sense of the word. Especially now that You-know-who had just returned and was being particularly vindictive of those that had strayed from him. He was lucky to have given this opportunity, many half-bloods waited for years in vain to gain such a position by You-know-who's side. Didn't they know that they would never be promoted to such a rank; it was reserved for those who have the longest and unadulterated lineage. In a sick twisted way, Draco knew that the only reason this was so was because it gave You-know-who his sense of supremacy: 'look at the wizards originating from the most powerful backgrounds bow before me and grovel'. The suggestion of access to absolute power was alluring and Draco could definitely comprehend what he could achieve if he were to be granted an ear from this insane madman.  
  
He knew, with a certain sort of relief, he had no sense of loyalty to this absurd figure, only to that of what You-know-who was capable of. Surely, he thought, he would be able to manipulate You-know-who, so he would be able to do as he pleased as freely as he weren't under tyrannical rule.  
  
Yet there seemed an odd sort of foreboding that he carried with him when he pictured his future as a servant to this insanity. It was something he was not sure he was ready to commit to, no matter how richly rewarded he became. If it came down to money and power, he had enough of both already and the quest for more seemed futile and foolish in the face of what he would have to perform to be granted the corresponding increase. What worried him, however, was that his Father would take away his inheritance and disown him if he refused to abide by his wishes. He shuddered at the consequences of such an action, he would be left with nothing and would have to endure humiliation and contempt from his peers who were pureblooded and had previously put up with him only because of his birthright. If that were taken away from him, they would surely turn against him in revenge for the ill treatment and tantrums he had subjected them to. He pressed his forehead against the window pain, relishing the sensation of the coolness against his skin, tingling and abrupt to his senses.  
  
"Draco?"  
  
A voice, unwanted, familiar, acute pierced the silence like a shard of light in the encompassing and unthreatening darkness he had previously immersed himself in. His eyes fluttered open and though he showed no other sign of having heard her, Pansy continued in her blunt and unsubtle way, assuming he had acknowledged her presence.  
  
"You said that you would tutor me in Potions, you know how I am falling behind, Professor Snape says..."  
  
Draco watched as his breath fogged the glass, misting it so he could barely make out the figure he had previously been unconsciously watching. The dark figure formed a solitary black smudge against the freshly fallen snow. A trail of softly trodden footsteps lingered in his wake, you could barely make out the outline of the treaded snow; it was obscured by more snowfall, masking the fact that someone had passed. Soon no trace would remain that a person had walked across this field. It was as if the universe were conspiring to protect this person, to shield him from the eyes of curious strangers and wickedness. He felt a sense of raw envy as he reflected upon this, wishing that he had the same anonymity and insignificance, which that one student displayed, when moving across the field, unaware and insensible of someone watching him. For why would anyone watch him when he had nothing to live up to? Draco felt the unwonted and unwelcome desire to be a Nobody: to escape the constant scrutiny.  
  
(and what if I don't make it; I am just on the passing range for Potions...)  
  
He let Pansy's voice pass by unfiltered and unprocessed, too exhausted to maintain the sham of attention required of his upbringing. He indulged himself in the consideration of going outside to mark the snow just as the person he was watching was doing. He could step into the previously trodden snow, placing his feet exactly where the other had gone, and pretend for a moment that he was someone else: that he could actually make his own decisions or better still, did not have any decisions to make except what to eat for dinner. When was the last time he had dinner? Surely today was the day to make his way to the Great Hall and face the student population, not like anyone would notice he had been absent. He would simply pretend nothing had occurred and he was just another student.  
  
But for some reason he suspected that it would not be so easy, surely he would be rejected. His feet, false and cunning would mark the snow harshly with the hard ridges of the soles of his expensively made boots. The wind would howl its condemnation and seek gaps in his ermine to chill his body out of spite. He could not bear the knowing and inquisitive gaze of the headmaster. Dumbledore knows, he was certain, why doesn't he stop this madness? Am I so evil that I can have no hope of redemption? His mind told him that he could bear another day of starvation and perhaps make a trip to the kitchens later. However, since Dobby had arrived at Hogswart, he was forbidden from making contact with the house elf. It came down to Potter again, he complicated things, Draco reflected, unable to summon enough energy to resent him. He would just have to go hungry again, his pride simply not allowing him to ask his housemates the favor of bringing him food, and Merlin knows they would probably poison it. No, they wouldn't, they were too afraid of his Father. It is depressing and frightening to think of what inspired the loyalty of his friends. He needed to find a way to ingrate them to him; such manipulation and cunning was second nature to him. Though such thoughts, so ingrained in him, often caused him to pause, he was unable to resist their coming.  
  
(then he wrote a letter to my parents saying that he cannot allow for such 'carelessness' to take place! Do you think I'm careless? It's not my fault the ingredients are in such small amounts...)  
  
Look how the trees bend to shield him from the harsh wind and how the sun shrouds itself in clouds to spare his eyes the glare reflected from the blindingly white snow. The snows continued to systematically and tenderly cover the trail the boy left behind. Who was this figure that would inspire such affection? Draco mused. He belonged to all that was good and virtuous and natural. See how the world greets him and welcomes him into its bosom.  
  
He made himself stop: he was romanticizing the figure in the snow too much. For all he knew it could be Weasely out there on a secret rendezvous. He shuddered at the thought. As much as he would just like to dismiss the feeling as mere idealism and impracticality, he knew something rang true in that feeling, a need for something he could neither express nor accurately pinpoint. It was undeniable and exact, something he knew he had to find before he would dedicate his life to something as mundane and unfulfilling as servitude to the Dark Lord. He realized and appreciated this feeling of certainty that he obtained from both the realization of another possible path his life could take and also the absolute but surprising conviction that the person he just saw was not Weasely. He was not sure how he knew but something in the person's stride convinced him.  
  
He had not the strength to analyze how he discerned this.  
  
(draco? are you even listening to me? because if you aren't...)  
  
Draco lifted his hand to the glass, pressing the palm of it against the bitter chill, ignoring the icy fingers that migrated up his arm. Perhaps unaware of them as his body felt already as cold as the window. He let his body soak in the chill, taking odd comfort in the sensation. Visualizing ice crystals slowly but progressively growing in his blood stream, they pierced the walls of his capillaries, his arteries and veins giving way to the sharp edges of the ice splinters. Blood would flow into the cracks of this building, and when nothing remained except that red pool, his clothes would disintegrate. There was something so unethical, so vulgar to leave behind a pile of dirty clothes on the floor. It would mark your passing; make people aware of you having existed. The blood would dissipate into a million droplets, forming a mist like his breath was on this pane at this instant. Maybe when he is so dispersed would he be free from these damning thoughts that haunted his every waking moment. He would form a mist, and simply... disappear.  
  
The figure withdrew to the doors of the castle and Draco was suddenly keenly aware of the silence behind him. He drew his robes around him, automatically reaching down to smooth them with one hand. As he turned to address Pansy, he caught only a glance of her horrified face for an instant before registering that the letter had ignited itself in his hands. Flames licking his sleeves were the only thing he remembered before the floor rushed up to meet him and darkness once again embraced him.

A/N: Before any of you begin to think that Draco is in any way weak just think how we would react if we were under situations of identical strain. I know I would go mad if I had no control over what I was to become.


	13. Imminent

The usual. I do not own anything except my story. The characters and the background behind them don't belong to me. Please R&R.

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The Great Hall was bustling with the usual activity, students entering and leaving in random clusters, giggling and chattering. Others, eyes filled with sleep and exasperation for having been woken up for such a trivial detail as food. Seamus, however, was wide-awake, he loved being in the Great Hall before all the rest strolled in and he lingered as long as he could without being late for class. He was an avid people watcher and he found nothing to be ashamed of and would readily ramble off random details about people if ever asked. He secretly coveted these minute aspects of people and would eagerly squirrel away information on other people whenever he could. It certainly helped in his love life as it often flatters others to have people notice them. Of course he was highly selective in his choice of victims, or 'featured stars' as he preferred to call them. It was not by chance therefore that he should 'overhear' certain conversations, or perhaps sit close by to scrutinize those he had chosen.  
  
He was pleasantly surprised when the object of his fascination chose to sit next to him, giving him a wide smile, which also seemed unusual, not that he was complaining about the change; Harry's standard expression during that time of the day was a sleepy, vague acknowledgement.  
  
Too bad his school robes were covering the new clothes that Seamus had made him wear on a daily basis. At first Harry was hesitant, protesting that Dudley's cast-offs were still wearable and that it would be wasteful to not make use of them. However, Seamus solved that problem by quietly disposing of the offensive items on night.  
  
Seamus fondly recalled the next day, which being a Saturday: was blissfully free of robes and uniforms. Harry turned up in well-fitted jeans and a white button down shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows, simple and chic. His entrance making the school sit up and take notice. Of course the Golden Boy didn't notice the lust-filled stares or the hungry looks, he merely seemed disconcerted and frustrated at his inability to find his old clothes.  
  
"They were comfortable!" he protested, not that anyone minded his discomfort, being too busy clambering for a view of the Gryfindor table and admiring how the jeans clung to the toned length of his thigh and how white accentuated his fairness, causing him to look even more innocent and untouchable.  
  
"Um... what is with everyone?" Harry asked nervously as the Great Hall's population proceeded to congregate around his general vicinity.  
  
"They're just staring at your scar, Harry," replied Hermione, looking up from her book. She was as usual, ever practical: not wanting to scare Harry with too much information. It would traumatize Harry if he knew that the school was lusting after his body on top of his fame, she mused.  
  
"Oh ok," he replied easily, relaxing visibly and biting into his sandwich.  
  
Ron rolled his eyes, mumbling under his breath, "you would think they had never seen jeans before," referring to the girls gathering around.  
  
"What?" Harry said innocently, grabbing the pitcher in front of him to pour a glass of pumpkin juice as Hermione pinched Ron under the table.  
  
"Nothing, Ron was just saying that we need to get to Potions early to avoid points being taken off," Hermione replied effortlessly while Ron tried to hide his wince.  
  
"Since when were you so eager to get to Potions?" Harry asked suspiciously, but fortunately was distracted by Malfoy coming over to exchange the customary Saturday morning insults.  
  
Seamus returned to the present when the other two members of the trio, staggered in behind (Ron with his inability to coordinate at early hours and Hermione weighed down by a large book) and plopped themselves next to Harry and began arguing over the merits of reading over the dining table, a repetitive subject which did little to distract Seamus from his little obsession with the Golden Boy.  
  
"Morning Harry! You weren't in the dorms yesterday night and seem to be in such a good mood..." Seamus deliberately trailed off.  
  
"Well..."  
  
Ron looked up sharply from his toast, "Wait, you weren't in the dorms? I fell asleep before you returned from detention with Snape. Where did you go?"  
  
"I..." Harry hesitated, looking slightly annoyed at the worry in Ron's voice. A slight apprehension showed in his face; he really didn't want it known over the school that he had spent his night in the dungeons. Really, people might get the wrong idea.  
  
"Oooh. If it's that personal maybe we shouldn't ask eh Harry?" Seamus took his reluctance to answer as admittance to some secret rendezvous, slightly aggravated that someone else had managed to get to Harry before he did. Yet he was not completely discouraged even if Harry was currently seeing a secret lover; after all after that Hogsmeade trip, Harry had begun to warm up to him.  
  
"No! It's nothing like that," Harry protested, his cheeks turning pink in embarrassment, unfortunately Seamus took that to be a confirmation of his earlier suspicions. Harry had been much happier recently than he had been for a long period of time.  
  
"Don't worry Harry, we won't tell," giving Harry a sly wink and a feather light caress on the cheek for emphasis, "I wish you would tell us who he is though, one likes to know who the competition is."  
  
"What?" Harry replied, slightly confused.  
  
"That's what I love about you, you're so innocent!"  
  
"Merlin Seamus, leave Harry alone," Ron cut in, kicking Seamus on the shin under the table.  
  
"What was that for?" Giving Ron a fake hurt puppy dog look, slightly spoiled by his laughing eyes.  
  
Harry laughed at his antics, before giving in and answering, "I just couldn't sleep so I went to the kitchens," he bit his lip, shooting Ron a sharp look and hoping he would leave it to rest there.  
  
Ron frowned slightly before taking the hint and exclaiming, "Hey I left my book in the dorms, want to go get it with me Harry?" Returning Harry the look that plainly said, we have to talk.  
  
Seamus filed away the exchange, making his own conclusions of how it all added together. He sneaked a look at Hermione, who looked pensive for a second, before returning to her book. Typical, Seamus thought, turning his attention elsewhere for his daily dose of entertainment.

* * *

They walked companionably for a few moments as they exited the Great Hall. It seemed enough that the other was there; neither felt the need to talk. Moments like these were rare, especially with upcoming exams and the daily hassle of school. They rarely found time to speak to each other between Prefect meetings and Quidditch practices, much less find time to be alone and just enjoy each other's company. It's not that Ron didn't like it when Hermione was there, but sometimes he felt jealous of the time Harry and his girlfriend spent together. He knew that they were best friends and had a special bond, but he was envious of the ease at which they got along. Sometimes he wasn't sure if he were jealous of Harry or Hermione. 

Both, he supposed.

He knew that they both loved him back the way he loved them and felt selfish for wanting more; the three of them got along so well he was afraid something might tear them apart. He mentally shook his head; he was beginning to think like Harry; believing that nothing good will last. He was saddened by this thought, Harry had known so little happiness in his life and everything that was important and that he cherished was destroyed, contaminated by others.  
  
He was so deep in his thoughts that he was surprised when Harry suddenly spoke up. "Well you obviously have your book bag, so where are we headed to now?" He spoke, not sarcastically but kindly and his tone was tinged with curiosity.  
  
:"Nah. Just needed to get away from Seamus."  
  
Harry smiled, albeit skeptically, but let it pass. They walked on through random corridors, occasionally stopping to talk to paintings. The stairs groaned as they shifted.  
  
"Did you notice that Malfoy wasn't in the Great Hall this morning?" Harry mused all of a sudden.  
  
Ron frowned, he had been too busy eating and being disgusted with Seamus to notice much else, "No, I hadn't noticed. But then he usually comes in really late anyway so what's the big deal? Besides, it's Malfoy, maybe he got eaten by the giant squid on the way here." He ended with a hopeful tone.  
  
Harry hardly registered what he had said, frowning slightly. He shrugged nonchalantly and walked on ahead.  
  
"Why do you care anyway? I mean..." a thought came into Ron's mind, and he paused and studied Harry's averted face carefully.  
  
"No." Harry replied, too quickly, then he laughed at his nervousness, "It's nothing really, it's just that... some time ago he found my room."  
  
"What room? The dorms?" Ron asked, then realizing "Oh, where you keep all your paintings?"  
  
Harry nodded, his face worried.  
  
"You don't think that he would break in there, do you? I mean does he know that they're done by you?"  
  
"I don't think he saw me, I managed to get under my cloak in time. It's just, well uncomfortable that he found something so personal to me." Harry twisted a corner of his robe, looking thoughtful, "I don't think he'll be able to get into there anyway, I warded it with a couple extra spells, and even if he manages to break in he won't see anything because I shrunk everything to fit into this locked trunk in the corner, that's spelled so no one would notice it."  
  
Ron was abit taken aback at how many precautions Harry had taken to safeguard his paintings. But then again they were such an intrinsic part of Harry it was no wonder he didn't want someone who might use them against him to get hold of them. "But he doesn't know it was you, why are you so worried?"  
  
"Because when he came I broke something of his. So I repaired it a long while ago and I couldn't decide whether to give it back because I wasn't sure and then I waited until yesterday and I sent it back to him... using Hedwig" Harry finished lamely, realizing he was beginning to ramble.  
  
"Oh." Ron said. Hedwig was a very distinctive owl; very few students had a snow white owl in Hogwarts, most preferred the more common brown owls due to the huge cost discrepancies.  
  
"...and I sent a note with my name on it." Harry was still looking away.  
  
"Wait... Why did you do that? And why did you even bother sending it back to him? It's not like he can't afford it, he's so rich!"  
  
Harry winced at the mention of money, knowing his friend to be touchy about the subject.  
  
"He probably won't even appreciate it!" Ron fumed.  
  
"Ron..."  
  
Harry's tone was quiet but it carried enough firmness for Ron's temper to cool down.  
  
"What did he break anyway?"  
  
"One of those small wizarding lights." Harry blushed at the smallness of the object, already he was beginning to doubt if it was worth all that bother. He was sure that Draco would not realize the significance of such a favor. Well, not exactly a favor, since he was returning it to its rightful owner. "It's really beautiful and I thought it was pretty expensive as it had all these crystals and emeralds embedded in it. I couldn't find all of the stones so I sent it to the glass smith to add on a few new ones." Harry added rather defensively.  
  
Ron couldn't help smiling, even though he very much disliked the action: it was something Harry would do. Even for his worst enemy. It was just the inherent goodness in him, "Well everything Malfoy owns is expensive to the point of being gaudy." Ron replied easily and good-naturedly.  
  
Harry smiled at that, relieved that Ron was not going to berate him on spending money on the... gift. Gift. He could hardly call it anything else especially since he had the wizarding light redesigned with a dragon design entwined around its surface. It was something Malfoy would like, he thought. There was just something in Malfoy's eyes that night when he walked into the room, a sort of... understanding. Not the normal reactions others had as they entered, not excitement, not gushing enthusiasm, not fear like some had when they peered into the eyes of their portraits, as if discovering the darker part of themselves for the first time. But a quiet wonder and comprehension.  
  
"Why did you sign your name then?"  
  
"Because I know how it feels to lose something." Harry replied, his expression serious.  
  
"Does he?" Ron asked gently, careful to keep his voice from showing any displeasure. "...does it matter?"  
  
Harry wondered what Malfoy would say if he knew he had painted them. He would probably dismiss them as trash, he decided. However, he felt like he needed Malfoy to tell him to his face that the paintings were not worth anything to be convinced. Somehow he felt that of all people Malfoy was the one to understand, for whom else had lived in perpetual darkness except him? Harry found it hard to articulate these thoughts to Ron without evoking cynicism. He did not need a reminder of how Malfoy had treated him; he was not looking for a friend in the blond haired boy but rather hoping to find someone who recognized what went into the paintings. The emotions coursing through his very blood finding outlet in the swirls of color; the brush a channel he could direct his rage and helplessness.  
  
Ron looked on quietly as a myriad of emotions flashed through Harry's eyes: his face was kept unusually still, not giving away what he was thinking. It was hard to decipher Harry's thoughts now. No longer was his face expressive of all that he was feeling. He had trained his face not to give him away, Ron mused. For half a second he wanted to ask him what he was thinking but was afraid of being rejected or told a white lie.  
  
"So why weren't you in the dorm yesterday?" Ron attempted conversation cautiously. Harry smiled with such genuine pleasure that Ron was astonished, he couldn't help wondering if this Malfoy business had anything to do with Harry's current happiness, but was relieved when Harry replied in a hushed tone, "Sirius."  
  
"Si... Snuffles is here?" Ron laughed out loud. "Why didn't you tell us?"  
  
Harry was happy that Ron shared his happiness, he knew that Ron was glad that for him for being able to spend time with his godfather. It came from the care and regard Ron had for him; he once again felt lucky to have such unselfish friends, who could be happy for him without ulterior personal motives.  
  
"Well, he's kind of staying at Snape's quarters. I don't think Professor Snape will be very happy if I attempt to advertise that fact."  
  
"Oh my god, you mean they haven't killed each other yet? That's rich. Haha... who would've thought."  
  
"Don't talk too loud. We're almost at the classroom!" Harry warned as they turned to corner to begin their first class, smiling as they went. He felt relief at having told Ron about his midnight trips down to the dungeon. Secrets never bore well with him.  
  
"Harry!" both started at the voice suddenly beside them then relaxed as they found that it was only Seamus, "Want to sit by me during Potions again?"  
  
"Um..."  
  
"Ok hurry we don't want to end up sitting right in front of the old bat!"  
  
Ron sighed as they were dragged toward the classroom with incredible speed; Seamus in his enthusiasm somehow managing to pull both of them along at the same time.  
  
"Seamus, we're like five minutes early..." Harry offered and was duly ignored.  
  
"...Seamus!" Ron roared.  
  
"What?" Seamus innocently replied once they were positioned in the near empty classroom in some snug corner.  
  
"Nevermind." Ron was feeling slightly nauseous at having suddenly been hauled at great speed, he sighed again and put his head in his hands, now he would have to spend the rest of the lesson in close proximity to the hyperactive Irish. Then again... Poor Harry.

* * *

A/N: See no cliffies. I think I promised not to have them. =) Anyway please review and tell me what you think. It's very important because it will affect the style in which I write. I try to take in new suggestions and adjust the story accordingly to fit the audience I am aiming for. The plot is planned out and I know what will happen just tell me how you would like the story to be told. Am trying to fit everything into my schedule and am very busy. Will hopefully have time to update soon.

Love,

Gingermao


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